


Good Luck, Bad Luck

by DivinelyUninspiredToAHellishExtent



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: :), Alec Lightwood Has Anxiety, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Dorks in Love, Eccentric Magnus Bane, F/M, Good Luck and Bad Luck, I honestly dk what else I'm just making this up as I go, Insecure Alec Lightwood, It's hard to explain, Magnus Bane Has No Chill, Oblivious Alec Lightwood, Oblivious Magnus Bane, Smut, Sort Of, Special Powers, but stupid for each other, eventually, not rlly but, they have different levels of good/bad luck, they're both stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivinelyUninspiredToAHellishExtent/pseuds/DivinelyUninspiredToAHellishExtent
Summary: Entirely, the most painful part about having the worst scale of Bad Luck is that he has to watch people, even his friends and family, go about and live happy, normal lives while he’s fucked forever with no way to change his fate.Bad Luck level 10 is the worst scale that one can be assigned when they’re born. It’s also the rarest scale given out around the world. Fact: a total of around 300,000 people have it worldwide. Yes, it sounds like a big number but is it actually? No.And Alec’s, very unluckily, one of those people....Or one where everyone's assigned Good Luck or Bad Luck on different scales when they're born and Alec and Magnus, two Bad Luckers with the worst scales, against all odds, try to be together. This'll be a rollarcoaster.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Yea so...this should be fun. No, this won't be a one shot. No, I have no idea how many chaps there will be. Enjoy? Comment? Leave a kudo? Happy reading?

Alexander Lightwood is having a bad day. 

It’s not one of those ‘good’ bad days, either. Because every day in Alec’s life is a bad day, and it has been ever since he was born, so every day he prays sometimes for those ‘good’ bad days. 

But no. Alec could almost smell it in the air when he woke up—today was going to be a bad day. 

Entirely, the most painful part about having the worst scale of Bad Luck is that he has to watch people, even his friends and family, go about and live happy, normal lives while he’s fucked forever with no way to change his fate. 

Bad Luck level 10 is the worst scale that one can be assigned when they’re born. It’s also the rarest scale given out around the world. Fact: a total of around 300,000 people have it worldwide. Yes, it sounds like a big number but is it actually? No.

And Alec’s, very unluckily, one of those people. And that really, _really_ shows on bad days. 

At age ten, Alec was convinced that the system was flawed and that he was going to be just fine. That lasted until he broke his knee walking to the candy shop down the street by  _ tripping.  _

People experience different levels of this stuff; his brother Jace has Bad Luck, but he’s just a  _ 3\.  _ A mother-fucking 3. Alec would give up anything for that. 

And meanwhile, his sister Isabelle has Good Luck 6 and his mom Good Luck 7. Fact: most people in the world are assigned with Good Luck when they’re born, and if it’s Bad Luck, it’s on a very low level.

But basically, when the universe gives out Bad Luck on such high scales like Alec’s, it’s basically saying  _ go fuck yourself.  _

Fact: There are special homes for people like him. Basically just mini prisons where innocent people are confined in boring rooms just to bring down their ‘chances of Bad Luck. A  _ fun  _ fact: Alec’s mother almost shipped him off to one of these when he was thirteen, fell asleep in class and got his first wet dream.

Alec had to learn not to care at a very young age. 

He’s gone to therapy for it, but because of his Bad Luck, every therapist he’s had was either crap or died. Yes, literally  _ died  _ because they were trying to help Alec. 

Another fact: A lot of people like to stay away from people like Alec because of things like that. It makes him lead a very depressing life. Basically his only friend when he was growing up, (and still now), was Jace, his brother. The only girlfriend he’d ever had ended because she’d been cheating on him for four months. They’d been dating for four months and a week.

Alec found out he was gay about a year after, but it’s not like he was ever going to survive a relationship like a normal human, so he blocked himself off from doing those. Now, at age eighteen, that still hasn’t changed.

See, there are certain factors that just tell Alec his day's going to be bad on a certain morning. When he woke up, it was raining. Rain might be one of Alec’s least favorite things in the world, and his scale of Bad Luck taught him not to believe in coincidences.

So he gets up. Slowly. Looks around. Mainly for danger, but also to make sure there isn’t any other signs of more Bad Luck today. 

Some examples: randomly broken furniture, his vinyls mysteriously knocked from the wall and broken on the floor, a dead rat in the corner. 

Yes, these are all real examples of things that have happened to Alec. This is, in fact, what he has to deal with every day. 

After a quick scan that finds that there isn’t much wrong—a pen, his favorite, is missing from his desk, but who even cares about that? It’s replaceable—he decides it’s alright to get up. Standing slowly. Counting down in his head, mostly to calm him down. 

Fact: he has this schedule that he completes every day to keep his spirits up and his Bad Luck down. It’s time-consuming and stressful, but he thinks it helps. He thinks. 

Fact: he calms himself by listing facts in his head. Daily reminders, almost. 

He creeps around his bed, all the way up to the door without some crazy shit happening like his ceiling fan falling and paralyzing him. Good. Good for now. 

When he walks out into his flat, the first thing he does is walk all the way forward quickly and to stand right in the middle of the room, where there’s a big gap of furniture and just things in general. Fact: he considers this his safe spot. According to research, all Bad Luckers like him should have a safe spot in their house—a place that’s empty of everything where they have the least likely chance of something dangerous happening to them. No chandeliers or lights above them, no surrounding furniture from at least five feet, and a location that’s easy to reach. 

His is right in the center of his living room. He studies the room, and…

Interesting. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of place or anything wrong. Could the rain actually _ have  _ been a coincidence? Maybe a punishment for some other Bad Lucker?

_ No.  _ He shouldn’t have that type of mindset. He needs to be prepared for anything. 

Carefully, he walks over to the whiteboard on his fridge, reading his plan for the day.

_ Get groceries. Chance of Bad Luck: 7. _

He’ll leave that for last. 

_ Clean room. Chance of Bad Luck: 4. _

_ Finish laundry. Chance of Bad Luck: 5.  _

And that’s it. 

Having Bad Luck 10 is like having a disease. It restrains him from doing all the normal things he wants to do, restrains him from having a life, restrains him from basically everything. That whiteboard is how all of his days usually go. He can’t go to parties; Bad Luck is too likely, for him  _ and  _ everyone around (not that he’d even be invited to any. He’s avoided by three fourths of his grade). 

Well. No time to be sad. Death could or could not await, and there’s no point in procrastinating. 

He feels like he sees everything in his life through a gray lense. Nothing can make him  _ feel  _ anymore. He isn’t allowed to find something that’ll make him feel. Most of the time, it’ll be too unsafe. 

He walks around his room, using his usual techniques to increase chances of his survival. The less damage, the better. 

Once he’s done cleaning his room, (he found a whole pile of dust under his desk, even though he vacuumed yesterday, and had the  _ biggest  _ struggle changing his sheets because everything just loves to  _ not  _ cooperate), he picks up his laundry basket, which is about the size and weight of a large dog (danger level: high), and heads out to the laundry room. It’s on the first floor of his apartment, and he’s on the fourth. He has to take the stairs, as always, and sit on his ass going down because that’s the most safe way while carrying a big basket of clothes. People give him strange looks, sure, but once again, he’s learned to deal with it. And it’s safer than the elevator (danger level:  _ very  _ high. Chances of breaking down and leaving him stranded). 

Sometimes, he just wants to say  _ fuck it  _ and go flying down the stairs as fast as he can, be like a little kid or something just so he can feel  _ free.  _ Maybe death isn’t that bad. It has to be better then living  _ this  _ life. 

But he thinks maybe the only reason he hasn’t given in yet is because of his family. His mother needs him. His sister would be heartbroken, though she’d never admit it, and Jace? His brother? Honestly, who knows how he would react. He’s pretty unpredictable. But he’s pretty sure he would be at least a little sad. 

The laundry room is pleasantly empty. Less likely chance of getting locked inside and murdered. Good. 

He dumps his clothes inside, does the detergent measurements and starts the machine. Then he’s back to the stairs, pulling himself up them by the railing like he’s an old man. He looks every which way as he goes along, watches his feet the most carefully. 

He makes it back to his room. Slips the key through, unlocks it, and steps inside. Scans his flat, quick, and then starts gathering the bags needed for grocery shopping, bracing himself. 

He was told by many that he was going out on a limb by doing this whole ‘living on his own’ thing. His mother told him he needed her protection. His brother told him he was an idiot. His sister slapped him, but there was worry filled to the brim in her eyes. 

But he just needed some sort of ounce of  _ something  _ to make him feel normal. 

It’s still raining when he walks outside, but it’s too risky to bring an umbrella; could get caught on a branch, could be hit by lightning, etc. Fact: Bad Luckers scale 10 have the highest chances of death when they’re out in public. 

That’s why doing a simple task like walking to the market has him sweating out of his skin. 

The rain beats down on him and blows on his face like cold, sharp knives. He keeps his head down, putting his arms forward just slightly to make sure he doesn’t run into a tree and die or something. It’s disorienting and down-right terrifying, walking through New York surrounded by hundreds of bustling, normal Good Luckers and trying to survive. 

But starving is also another cause of death, so he needs to avoid that too. He has some pretty violent bumps and nearly gets run over by  _ two  _ cars (when he was crossing when he was supposed to), but eventually, there he is, standing proudly outside of Whole Foods. He walks inside and is honestly surprised he isn’t immediately stabbed or mugged or something. Here he is. Still surviving. He's had worse experiences walking down the street. 

He’s starting to have second thoughts about his day. 

Fact: he always goes to organic fruits and vegetables section first. He became a vegetarian a while back, and then got food poisoning from  _ cheese  _ so it was vegan for him as well. 

He picks out a sweet selection of his favorites; tangerines, macintoshes, grapes, bananas and a few blueberries and strawberries to make smoothies. The fruit aisle in Whole Foods, in Alec’s opinion, should be photographed and put in a museum. He’s never gone to another place with more fresh perishables so wonderfully arranged and displayed. It feeds his satisfaction. 

He’s also a bit of a dork about food. It’s always been his dream to be a cook, but with his level of Bad Luck? There’s no chance in hell. 

So he wanders around Whole Foods with a stomach full of wonder and dreams of paradise, watches the cooks behind the meat aisle chop and cut like it’s as easy as going through tofu. Alec couldn’t even imagine himself in that place, but as it is, here he is daydreaming of being in it. 

The grocery store is quiet today. It’s a Tuesday morning, and this is Alec’s favorite time to go. Less people, less danger. 

He goes to the raw vegetables next. His meal plan for almost every week of his life is just salads, salads, salads. The only way he can mix it up is by adding fruits or mixing up the greens he uses. It’s about the most excitement he can get with food, which is another major life disappointment. 

But one thing that he  _ can  _ enjoy (for now): wine. 

After a few arguments with himself in his head, he always floats to the wine aisle. It’s a beautiful masterpiece with seemingly hundreds of gorgeous bottles lined down the shelves perfectly and shining in the fluorescent lights like they’re inviting him over. 

Red wine is his favorite. The rich color and taste keep him captivated. He doesn’t even care about the brand—it’s all delicious to him. 

He figures the excitement about the wine aisle is going to be the most he feels all day, so he cherishes it and goes through the bottles carefully, dragging his fingers over the glass. 

Another person appears in the aisle with him, a minute later. He hugs close to the bottles, heart beating louder in his ears suddenly. 

The man ignores him. He feels safe, but then starts inching out of the aisle. There’s something about him that makes him uneasy—he has a strange jump to his step as he walks up and down, glitter touching his hair and clothes (though there are barely any of those) and falling into the air like snowflakes as he walks. Alec gets entranced, curious. Especially when the man  _ steps on the second shelf  _ to reach up for a different bottle. That’s when he’s pretty sure his jaw drops to the floor. 

He backs away, filling with fear and guilt as he sees the whole shelf wobble as the man struggles. He knows this situation, he  _ knows  _ what’s going to happen if that man doesn’t get down soon—

“Please—please get down!” Alec says shakily, holding out a trembling hand. The man whips his head back to him, looks him up and down, and then puts on a confused expression. They’re both running out of time. He gets a horribly sick feeling deep in his stomach when he realizes that this is probably the flip in his day he was expecting. God, he shouldn't have trusted it—

“Please, please you have to get down—” Alec gulps, putting down his food basket to put out both hands. Do  _ any  _ employees work here? “You don’t understand, you’re in  _ danger _ , I—I’m a Bad Luck 10 and if you keep doing that I’m going to accidentally hurt you and probably me too, so please—”   


“You’re a Bad Luck 10?” His voice sounds different then Alec was imagining it, more perky and casual. 

He wants to melt into a hole. “Yes. Now can you please step down before we both get hurt—”

The shelf gives one more violent wobble before the entire thing starts to tip down right toward Alec. Alec thinks he  _ does  _ melt right then, right into the floor and straight into a ball, clutching his hair and thinking of his family. 

But the blow doesn’t hit. Nothing happens.    


He looks up carefully, and all he sees is sparkly eye shadow and bright red lipstick right up in his face with green eyes to  _ drown  _ in. 

“Oh,” he says. The man’s grinning at him, and now, he’s positive  _ this  _ is the most he’s wanted to melt into a hole. This moment right here. 

He stands and looks around. The wine shelf is still there, and steady. The man is in front of him, very much alive and looking amused. Alec’s speechless. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. “You look a bit…frazzled.”

He points to the shelf helplessly. “But how did you…?”

He looks behind him and shrugs. “I jumped down and just pushed it back. Pretty easy.”

It doesn’t sound easy to Alec. Oh well. He’s probably a privileged Good Luck 10 or something. Alec gives him a weak smile. 

“Oh. Okay. Sorry for scaring you. Or not. I don’t know. I—yeah.” Alec waves awkwardly and starts walking away as fast as he can. 

“Wait.” Alec stops. “I’m a Bad Luck 10 too.”


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy reading

“Wait. I’m a Bad Luck 10 too.”

“How—how are you— _ alive?  _ How the hell are we both alive right now?” Alec looks around incredulously, like some magical person will come out of the blue and give him an explanation. 

“Hey. Dude. Relax.” He pats Alec’s shoulder. “You need to breathe. Death isn’t around every corner.”

“Wh—” Is he mentally ill? “You of all people should now that yes the hell it is! For us, that is.” He’s shaking. Why is he shaking?

He puts his hand on Alec’s other shoulder. “Stop thinking so much. Give yourself a break. You don’t have to live that life. You’ll be positively miserable if you do darling. Trust me. You only live once, and we’re  _ all  _ going to die one day anyway. Live a  _ good  _ life. One that you’ll actually enjoy.”

Alec didn’t expect to have an existential crisis brought on by a stranger in aisle four of Whole Foods on this Tuesday morning. 

“I—we  _ can’t _ .”

The man shrugs. “Sure we can. Who’s stopping us?”   


Alec motions around manically. He wants to cry. “Uh, the  _ universe _ ? Our crippling, life-ruining Bad Luck?”

“It doesn’t have to. Like I said, we’re all gonna die one day. Just because we have a bigger chance of that happening sooner, doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t live a normal life like everyone else.” He smiles, genuinely, crinkling his strange, bright green, cat-like eyes. Eyes that look so full of life, eyes that bring a strange pop of color to his seemingly grey life. “Go out and have fun while you still can. I promise it’ll be worth it.” He pats his shoulder one more time before letting go.

And then he walks away, flipping the tall bottle of Merlot in one hand that Alec hadn’t even seen him grab. Walking away like he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about the universe, about the rules, about his Luck. 

And, despite his stubbornness, he realizes that that man right there is literally the person he’s always wanted to be. 

And he didn’t even get his name. 

* * *

Adrenaline is singing through his ears when he gets home, splashing color around everywhere he goes. He feels like his furniture is singing to him, and that a meteorite could crash into his house right now and he wouldn’t even care. 

That mystery man is right. That bright eyed star that came and scooped Alec out of his misery faster than any encouragement from his sister or pep talks from his brother could. He was like an angel, a glittery, sparkling, smiling angel with leather pants and a bright orange cropped shirt. 

Alec went straight to his closet. If he wasn’t going to know the man’s name or even get the chance to be with him, he was at least going to give himself the chance to have that with someone else. He was at least going to try. Maybe that man was right. Maybe he didn’t have to live trapped because of this dreadful condition. If it didn’t hold that man back, why should it hold him?   


Alec was going to go out tonight. 

* * *

At eight o’clock, he texted Jace and found a nice gay club just a few blocks down from him. (Jace knew nearly all the nightclubs in New York.) Then, he called Izzy to come over and help him with something to wear. 

“Oh my god Alec this is so exciting! Are you serious like you’re actually doing this?”

Alec nods, wringing his hands. “Yeah. Yeah I think I am.”

She slaps a red-fingered nail over her mouth. “Gosh, I’m so proud of you!” And then he’s being knocked back by a violent hug that almost knocks the air out of him.    


“Hey, hey careful now. Let’s keep me alive up until then, alright?”

She lets go after one proper squeeze, smiling huge. “Okay. You’re right.” Her face changes though, sobers as she points a dangerous finger up at him. It’s hard to take her seriously at her whopping 4’11 height, however. “But you  _ better  _ not get yourself killed. Nightclubs can be dangerous, even for Good Luckers. Crazy people there. I mean, it’s not that bad, but for you—”

Alec grabs her finger. “Chill. I can handle it. I think. I’ll be fine.”   


She sighs and smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes this time. “Right. Anyway, as I recall, I was called here for helping you choose a slutty outfit for the occasion?”

She starts walking over to his room, maroon skirt swinging at her knees. Alec rolls his eyes. 

“No, not slutty. Comfortable, but maybe just a little fashionable. And I have horrible taste in clothes, so.”

Izzy turns around just at his closet doors, looking him up and down. All he’s wearing is a grey sweater with the words  _ I Want Coffee  _ etched on in white thread and black, off brand Nike sweatpants. She raises an eyebrow. 

“No,  _ really? _ ” she says. He shoves her lightly. 

“Shut up.”

“Okay, well sit your little uncultured ass down and let me do the work.”

“Alright.” He sits on the edge of his bed, looking around carefully first and then letting his muscles relax. “Just—please don’t mess up my closet.”

She turns back and smirks at him. “Or what?”

“Izzy…”

She rolls her eyes fondly and gets back to work. “Dude, all your clothes are crap.”   


He winces. “Really?”

“Is that a serious question?” 

He stares at her blankly. 

“ _ Yes,  _ really!” She rips out a camo sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve. “What is this? Where did you even buy this from?”

“A—A thrift store, maybe?”

She drops it like it’s a bug.

“Ew, dude! Hey, look at me.” She grabs the front of his sweatshirt and makes him jolt. “ _ Never,  _ under any circumstances, allow yourself to shop at a  _ used items  _ store.”

“ _ Why _ ?” he says dubiously.

“ _ Because _ ! It’s disgusting!”

Alec sighs. “Okay, okay.”

She lets go and turns back to the closet, hands on her hips. “We have more work to do than I thought.”   


He stands, stepping up next to her. “No, we have  _ one  _ job right now. Find me a ‘good enough’ outfit for a nightclub to dazzle at least  _ one  _ guy. I need something, Iz, my life is highly dull.”

She points to his closet. “Yeah no shit.” She pats his chest. “Sorry man, but there ain’t an article of clothing in that god awful thing that’ll win you anyone. We need to go  _ shopping. _ ”

Alec throws his head back. “Iz it’s  _ late.  _ I don’t want to go shopping right now.”   


“Oh, but you’re energetic enough for a club?”   


“Isabelle—”   


“Alexander.”

“Ew don’t call me that—”

“Then don’t call me Isabelle!”

He lets out an almighty sigh, closing his eyes and really weighing out his options. 

“Is there really not a single thing in there that will be acceptable for tonight? Like, for real?”   


She nods firmly. 

“But shopping’s going to take forever! I don’t want to go out so late and  _ plus _ , it’s dangerous! It’s dangerous enough that I’m going out tonight anyway!”

She purses her lips. “Alright. You stay here then, get yourself mentally prepared, and  _ I  _ will go out and buy you a nice outfit. Ah—no need to pay me back,” she adds when Alec tries to interrupt. 

“But,  _ Izzy _ —” he protests as she starts rushing out the door. 

She blows him a sarcastic kiss. “See you soon, dipshit!”

And the door slams, slamming him back into silence. 

* * *

About half an hour later, Izzy comes back with two excessively large Calvin Klein bags thrown over her shoulder. 

Alec, lying on the couch, throws a pillow over his face and groans. 

“Okay,” she announces, setting the two of them down right in front of him on the coffee table. They’re so big they barely fit. “We have two options for tonight.”

Alec peaks out from beneath the plush pillow. Izzy grins at him, pointedly ignoring his terror. 

“We have this  _ lovely  _ grey and gold  _ suit _ .” She pulls out an ash colored blazer with a gold tie attached and pants that match the blazer. 

He wrinkles his nose. “How did you afford this?”

“Not important.” She moves to the second bag. “And  _ here  _ we have a lovely, but simple, white button down with black trousers  _ with _ , this is the best part,  _ suspenders.  _ It’s pretty gorgeous.”   


She takes out the second outfit and—nope, she wasn’t lying. Black pants with matching suspenders and a white button down. 

“So which one will it be?” she says, holding both of them up side by side and wiggling them around. 

“Do people even  _ wear  _ suits to clubs?”   


“Sure they do.”   


Alec rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’ll have the button down.”

She giggles, dropping both of them to clap her hands excitedly. “Aw, look at you! You’re going to have such a good time tonight, I promise.”

Alec shrugs. “Yeah, let’s hope.” 

She hands him the second outfit, and while he’s examining it he catches a glance at the price tag. He feels like his eyes pop out of his head like a cartoon character’s. 

“Eighty four dollars?”

Izzy clears her throat, quickly mumbling; “Yes, that’s why you’ll be keeping the tag on.”

Alec laughs, feeling lighter and happier then he’s felt in probably months. 

“Okay, now get your ass out of here, Lightwood,” she says with a smirk, gathering her things and standing. “And don’t forget to not die.”   


Alec gives her a sarcastic look. “Yes, I’ll try my very best.”

She blows him a kiss and then leaves with one last fiery swish of her skirt. 

Alec feels like a new person putting on the clothes. They feel delicate and special and totally different from the regular things he wears. He feels like an actual, normal person, dressed up and ready to go out. He almost forgets that he needs to be cautious of every single thing he does tonight. 

But he gets a harsh reminder as he steps outside of the apartment. 

The first problem of the night he’s met with—someone starts following him almost instantly. 

It’s NYC. There are creeps left and right around here, and this isn’t even the first time this has happened. 

But now? Really? Did it have to be tonight?

He’s tempted to turn around and straight up fight the guy, but he stops himself. He reminds himself that he’s trying to focus on having a  _ good  _ time tonight.

So he ignores his follower. 

Twenty minutes later, (after a truck drove through a mud puddle and splashed all over his shoes and the bottoms of his pants), he makes it the nightclub, Fishy. Alive. 

The mud splash from that truck had brought his spirits down just a smidge; now he isn’t a special man dressed up for a night out—he looks like he just put on something dirty from his closet. And he’s probably going to have to pay Izzy back for the suit because of the damage, but oh well.

Worse could’ve happened. He survived. He’s here. And he had lost the dude following him. So all in all, he’s still excited. 

The club is absolutely  _ packed _ , people dancing and grinding and—and  _ moaning _ all around him. Electric dance music is playing so loud that he’s not even sure if he spoke, he would be able to hear himself, paired with the overwhelming strobe lights of rainbow colors flashing in his eyes. He stretches his neck and spots a bar in the back and starts pushing through the crowd. He’s bumped pretty roughly a few times (without any apologies, because apparently, people here are too cool for those), but eventually he shoves himself into a bar stool. 

It’s less loud in this little corner, which he’s thankful for. The club’s already a bit different then he was expecting. The bartender’s a very tall, tan and unique man. He has sunglasses on, even though there’s no need, and he’s wearing a tight, purple  _ dress.  _

Alec sort of admires it. 

He orders a cold brew beer, praying not to be poisoned. The thing is, he’d never calculated what exactly his next move was going to be once he got here, so now here he was, just sort of looking around pathetically. He feels like he should be doing something more boisterous and blending in with the crowd; he feels out of place the way he’s sitting there like some insecure chump. 

“You know,” someone close to his ear says, loud enough to reach him over the blare of the music. “You should’ve come here with someone. Would’ve been a lot more fun, I promise ya.”

Alec turns around and makes eye contact with that dirty pair of sunglasses. The bartender with the purple dress. Oh.

Alec scratches the back of his neck. How is he supposed to respond to this? “Uh—yeah, well, I don’t exactly have anyone. So.”

He can’t exactly tell because of the shades, but he thinks he sees the man raise his eyebrows. 

“Ah. That sucks.” He has a small Irish accent. Alec smells alcohol in his breath when he sets down a glass he was cleaning to lean on the counter and get closer to him. “Could I just say—your outfit looks stunning tonight?”

Alec blushes and looks down upon himself. He’s slouching, so the shirt is folded over a bit and his suspenders loose. And his pants are still dirty from the mud incident.

“I—I guess you could. Though I don’t think you’d be right.” He chuckles wryly. 

“Aw, sunshine, I think you look gorgeous.”

Alec looks down and squirms, because honestly, who just  _ says  _ things like that? How does this man even know that he likes him? 

Suddenly, his thoughts pin back to the man at the grocery store from the other day, his flamboyant nature and the way he spoke similarly to this guy, except without being creepy.

“Anyway, I’ll go get your beer now.” Alec had forgotten he was there for a moment, and his mind tumbles in embarrassment and guilt when he realizes he hadn’t even replied to the compliment he’d received. Or even looked at him. 

He watches him walk away hopelessly. Well. That crushes his hopes and dreams he had for finding anyone tonight. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it until the man had brought it up.

His eyes scan the crowd, trying to find someone he could try and flirt with. Maybe just anyone that would be  _ open  _ at the least, because at this point, nearly everyone had a dancing partner.

His ears were already ringing from the blasting speakers. Why did it need to be so loud? To drown out everyone’s insecurities about meeting someone and making small talk so they could just get right to grinding?   


Well. That’s probably why. He’s probably just not going to find anyone because he’s just that unlucky. 

He forgets, again, the point of coming out tonight. He’s overwhelmed. He’s lonely. He’s bored, honestly, and he feels…he feels like this wasn’t meant for him. The amount of work and stress and encouragement he put in to come here tonight was just unnecessary for the results. And not a single other person around looks like that, except for maybe the poor, rejected bartender. He feels like he doesn’t belong here.

“Here ya are,” the Irish man screams in his ear, making him jump. He turns around in his stool and gives him a weak smile while taking the beer.

It’s cold and bitter. He’s never liked alcohol, but maybe it’ll give him some sort of ounce of rejuvenation. He could use some. 

“Hi pretty boy.”

Oh great. The last thing he needs is that damn bar—

Wait.

That’s not an Irish accent.

He swerves around quickly in his seat, almost spilling his beer. 

And oh—

_ Holy shit. _

Is it—could it actually be—

“You know, you shouldn’t keep your mouth open, you’ll catch flies.” The man from the grocery store runs his hand along Alec’s jaw, affirmatively stopping his heart. And shutting his mouth. He’s wearing a completely unbuttoned, dark navy sparkly shirt rolled up to the elbows neatly tucked into matching, silky, navy pants that reach his ankles and almost cover his shiny black boots.

He wonders how in God’s name he got to be so lucky. 

Lucky…how…how  _ is  _ he so lucky?    


“What—what are you doing here?” He sets down the beer, fearing that he already looks stupid enough sitting alone and drinking by myself.

He cracks a smile. “I suppose the same thing you are, dear. Nothing.”

Alec raises his eyebrows. “How?”   


The man laughs, brutally showing off his long neck as he tips his head back in the slightest. Light catches his eyelids and Alec notices for the first time that he’s wearing light blue eye shadow up to his eyebrow. He finds himself wishing he had the self confidence to wear something like that.

And then thinking what the fuck.

“I walked here on two feet, if that’s what you meant?”

Alec shakes his head, wanting to slap himself. “No, I mean like—how am I seeing you? Again? We’re—we’re both Bad Luck 10s. Just us together right now should be a catastrophe.”   


He shrugs. “Well thankfully, it is not.”

Alec blanches. 

“But hey, look at you. You took my advice. You went out tonight.”

Alec scratches his head, disoriented. “Yeah, yeah I did. But it’s honestly quite underwhelming.”   


“Well sure, if you have no one to go with,” the man hints suggestively. But in a much smoother way than the bartender. Then his eyes start to travel down and he gives him the filthiest look-over Alec thinks he’s ever received. “And you dressed all formal. Not bad.”   


Alec nods slowly. “Hey. I never learned your name?”   


“Magnus. Magnus Bane. And you are?” He extends a hand, popping a charming smirk.

“Alec Lightwood.”

“Alec. Alec Alec Alec. That short for anything?” he asks. They hang on to each other’s hands for a tad too long, in Alec’s opinion. Not—not that that’s anything bad. 

“Yes. Alexander. Kind of weird, I know.”

“No no, I love it. Rolls off the tongue much easier.  _ Alexander. _ I think I officially want to call you that.”   


“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”   


“Hmm. Anyway. Guess I’ve got everything checked off for having a good night now. I’ve got someone, I’ve got nice clothes, and I’ve got a nice club.” Alec pauses and glances around. “Well, maybe.”   


Magnus laughs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Fishy is my favorite.”

Alec scrunches his nose. “I just—it’s so loud and crazy and—and overwhelming. I mean I practically have to scream for you to hear me right now. Do you go to clubs often?”

People say that talking to strangers is hard, and while it can be awkward, in Alec’s experience, talking with a stranger is almost easier than talking with an old friend. With strangers, he finds himself more gooey and relaxed, because the person doesn’t know a thing about him—he can be anyone he wants to be. And finding things to talk about is the easiest—when you both know nothing about each other, it’s like an instant click. There are endless questions to be asked, things that you could never ask a close friend because those are things you most likely already know about them.

So Alec falls into easy conversation with Magnus and instantly learns a lot about him—the way his eyebrows go up when he laughs, and how they stay the way they are when it’s fake. How Magnus lives alone in a flat only a couple blocks east from here, and they both find out that they live actually not that far from each other. How Magnus has a cat.

“Chairman Meow?” He’s on his second beer, so he isn’t sure if this is supposed to be a normal cat name or not. He’s also starting to see how clubs really can be fun.

“Yes. He’s my favorite creature on Earth that little one,” Magnus says fondly, as if recalling an old memory. But then he smiles, and Alec realizes he was faking it.

“How did you even come up with that name?”

“Oh, it’s hard to remember now, but I believe I recycled it from an old China leader— _ Chairman Mao. _ ”

“Oh. That’s cool. I don’t have any pets.”

“That’s a shame.” Magnus ponders deeply for a moment as he swirels his neon green martini with his shiny, gold painted, pinky nail. “If you want we could ditch this old place and you could come see him for yourself.” Magnus winks. “He loves newcomers.”   


“Oh—” 

_ Think fast think fast think fast— _

“Yeah sure, I would love to do that.”

Magnus grins, setting down his drink along with a twenty that just came out of nowhere. “Great.”   


“Oh—like  _ now _ ?”

Magnus shrugs, already lifting himself out of his seat. “Why not?”   


“Okay.” Alec’s shaking. He feels like his heart is genuinely shaking in his chest while Magnus looks like he does this every night. And he probably does, Alec scolds himself.

They push through the crowd, heads low with Magnus in the lead. Alec probably couldn’t find the entrance himself in this jungle of people if he was by himself, so he guesses he’s lucky.

“Ah, fresh air.” Magnus turns to Alec just as he nearly tumbles out of Fishy. “Feels real nice after that, doesn’t it?”

And surprisingly, it does. He never noticed how hot it got in there. He rubs his arms gently with his fingers, like he’s trying to rub some cold in. “Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll lead the way.”

“Sure.”   


New York, believably, is still completely awake and hustling and bustling despite how late it is. There are all sorts of people around him now—less business men or women coming down from the tall buildings for their jobs, but more artistic, unique souls. New York should have a movie made just about the street life at night.

“Hey,” Alec says, jogging a bit to catch up with Magnus and talk next to his ear. He’s the first person he thinks he’s ever met who has longer legs than him. “We haven’t died yet and we’ve crossed two whole crosswalks. Look at us.”   


Magnus leans back and laughs, his eyebrows raising and confirming to Alec that he really did find it funny. 

“I know. I’m honestly surprised. At this point I would’ve at least got my purse stolen or something.”

“I  _ know. _ ” He feels so free and different with Magnus, like he could do or talk about anything. It makes him feel like he can own his own world, one not controlled by this stupid Bad Luck.

They walk off the big major streets, cutting through an alley with too many broken beer bottle and the stench of skunk and then they’re standing in front of a vintage, brick, short and fat building.    


“Here we are!” Magnus exclaims, throwing his hands up and twisting around to show it off. “My room’s on the fourth floor, just there look—” He points and Alec looks. 

“Oh nice. That’s high.  _ Oh _ —is  _ that  _ Chairman Meow in the windowsill up there?” Magnus had pulled his keys out of his purse and stopped fiddling with the locks for a moment to answer (with a beam).

“Yes! Aw, yes there he is!” Magnus starts making a sweet kissy sound to try and entice him, but he just sits there on the windowsill like shit doesn’t matter. “Ah, well. Not always on his best side. Sometimes though."

Alec laughs. “He’s very gorgeous.”

Magnus finally finds the key that goes with the lock in his apartment but he turns around and gives Alec the sarcastic eye. That’s another thing he’ll do—he isn’t keeping track of all the cute and quirky things Magnus does, no, definitely not. 

“Well can you tell him that? Because he seems to think he’s having a bad fur day.”

“Will do.” Alec salutes. 

They step inside and Magnus immediately tows him up the first flight of stairs. There’s a rickety, wooden railing that looks like it’ll give Alec splinters and a single, hooded light bulb hanging from the ceiling, giving the place a dim light. It smells like Chinese food and dirt. 

But once Alec enters Magnus’s apartment, he gets a totally different vibe. A perfectly Magnus vibe.

It’s colorful. It’s the most colorful housing that Alec’s ever lay his eyes on in person. Colorful couch, colorful walls, colorful paintings, colorful rugs. It draws him in instantly in a way that he feels like a kid being dazzled with a bouncy house for the first time. 

“Wow,” Alec says, only a few steps in. “This is very…you.”

Magnus kicks his boots off at the door, leaving them beside at least five other pairs nearly identical to them. He gives Alec a smile, like he’s been waiting to show this off to someone forever. 

“Thank you my dear. Would you like to see the bedroom?”

Alec imagines a rainbow forest with lots of glowing butterflies and alien, fantasy animals. “Sure.”

“Right this way,” Magnus sings, almost skipping over to the tall door to the left. All in all, it’s a small, cozy space, but with the way he’s designed it, it looks like it could welcome anyone.

It’s not the rainbow forest like Alec was picturing, but almost similar. It reminds him of the rest of the flat still, just a little less. A golden bed with giant painting of the Eiffel tower hanging directly above it. Alec wonders how it hasn’t fallen on him yet with his Luck. A small table in the corner with a white polaroid camera and a little case of supplies for it, some photos sticking out of it. A little mirror hung by the door, and then a giant one on the other side. And—Alec’s favorite part, the floor to ceiling windows that have a  _ beautiful  _ view of the city. 

“I never thought I’d be this jealous of someone’s apartment this much,” Alec mutters as he steps up to the window. The city is aglow with lights and sound and movement, as it always is, even at this hour, but in here, you can just watch the chaos from a silent point far away. Calmly. And that’s exactly what Alec’s doing. 

Magnus chuckles, going up to his side. “Yep, it was quite the catch.”

“How do you afford this place? If it’s ok to ask.” Alec worries he’s said the wrong thing. He always manages to say the wrong thing.

“No darling, it’s alright. And actually, it used to be my grandfather’s place. So sort of like a Friends situation.”   


Alec snorts, remembering how ridiculously perfect that show’s apartment was. “Oh. That’s nice. I always thought the Friends’ thing was bullshit.”

“Oh. Nice,” Magnus replies, mimicking Alec’s tone in the slightest. Then he talks again before Alec can get another word out. “Want to see my closet? It’s a walk-in one.”

Alec nods quickly. He’s supposed to agree to everything that he’s told, right?   


He should maybe research how to be normal with humans who show any type of interest with him. 

Boy does his mouth drop when he sees the size of Magnus’s closet. He heard him saying it would be a walk-in, but this looks straight out of a barbie dream house. 

“ _ Damn.  _ Guess your grandfather had some taste.”   


Magnus laughs, running his fingers across some suits. “Yes, yes he did. Just like everyone who descended from him.”   


Alec laughs. “So you have a really good taste in clothes. That’s—I—I’m not sure where I was going with this, but I thought I’d let you know that I like it. It’s cool.”

Magnus stops and stands right in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. People make this seem really easy in the movies, but in real life, it feels as intense as trying to make eye contact with the sun. Holding a full gaze with someone—a stranger, no less—without blinking away should give him an award. 

“Thank you,” Magnus says, like he knows it. “And, of course, the best part—Chairman Meow! Daddy’s home!” he coos as he does a little skip over to the pale white cat in the window. It’s a fairly fat kitty, but calm as Magnus scoops him in his arms and nuzzles his nose into his stomach. Alec’s experience with cats is lots of scratching and lots of biting. Most animals don’t really like him, which is understandable because of what he has.

“How is he not attacking you?”   


Magnus looks up in confusion. “He’s my cat. He likes me.”   


Alec splutters. “Well yes, um, well, I mean like—with your Bad Luck 10, shouldn’t it be vicious around you?”

Magnus shrugs, going back to playing with his fur. “I suppose. But we have a special connection, me and this one.”   


Alec wants to ask,  _ but how is that possible? _ but he puts away the thought just because of the look on Magnus’s face as he plays with his cat.

“Would you like to hold him? He’s being awfully friendly today.”    


Fact: Alec hasn’t touched a cat since he went to his friend’s sixteenth birthday party and one  _ jumped  _ on him when they were eating cake. Alec hasn’t  _ wanted  _ to touch a cat since, but he finds himself reaching forward for it and agreeing. Everything about this situation feels wrong and strange, but Alec’s sure as hell going to enjoy it while it lasts.

“Aww. He  _ is  _ cute.” The little feline seems to be smiling up at him as he squirms around gently in his arms. 

“I know,” Magnus squeals.    


Alec sets the cat down after he starts squirming a little bit more, clearly wanting to get down. “Now this is making me want a cat,” he huffs, drawing a chuckle out of Magnus.

“They are lovely creatures.” Their eyes meet again in the low lamp light, and Alec quickly looks away, straightening out his shirt that doesn’t need straightening. Magnus’s eyes remind him of snow globes, reflecting orbs that are filled with bright happiness, but instead of a snowy scene inside, Magnus’s hold green meadows and grass of springtime.

He taps his hands at his side. He’s never been in a situation where he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It’s alarming.

“Here, why don’t we go have a snack? I’ve probably got…something in the kitchen.”   


Alec nods and follows, grateful that there’s now an activity to occupy his hands.

His kitchen is just a small space of stolen living room that’s only separated from that space by a small counter and marble kitchen island. It’s, of course, neat and perfectly polished, just like the rest of the place, just like Magnus. It smells like grilled cheese, though.

“So. What’s your preference? I’ve got fruits for smoothies, leftover pasta, some kettle corn…” He peers deeper in the fridge. “I believe that’s some guava kombucha too. Huh. Forgot I had that.”   


“Oh, you know, I’m not very hungry. Some water will be fine.”

“Just water? Not even kombucha? Gosh, you’re dull, Alexander,” Magnus teases. 

Nonetheless, he takes out a tall, blue-rimmed glass from a cupboard and pours some ice water from a pitcher in for him, sliding it across the island. Startled, Alec quickly moves forward to catch it before it slides off the table, and, luckily enough, he does. Right before it falls off and breaks. 

Magnus winks. “Nice catch.”   


Alec feels like he’s losing his mind. “ _ What?! _ ”

Magnus turns around slowly. “I said ‘nice catch’?”

Alec shakes his head, examining the glass for some sort of special powers. “How did I, how did I just catch this?”   


“With your hands?”

“No, but—”   


“Alec, you know, believe it or not, everything in life doesn’t go completely horrible for us Bad Luckers. We have a few bad moments, sure, but everyone does. At least everyone’s supposed to. That’s my theory.” He says this all as he pours himself a large mug—yes, mug—of guava kombucha.

“But, no, that—that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Bad Lucks' suck and Good Lucks' get to have fully happy lives. Because nothing goes wrong. Usually.”   


Magnus leans forward on the kitchen island, laying out a manicured hand below his folded arm and taking a slow sip of his kombucha. Out of the mug. 

“Tell me now—does every Good Lucker you know live a perfectly amazing life?”   


Alec thinks back to Izzy and Jace and his mom, and although they don’t have silly problems like worrying about the furniture placement in their room when they wake up, he does catch Izzy complaining a good deal about boys, and Jace about girls. And his mom? Well, not to be rude, but his mom is divorced and alone. 

“I—I guess not. But they live better lives than us.”

“Yes. Sure. That’s how it works. But it still doesn’t mean that ours are fucked. Just  _ try  _ living a normal life. I swear you’ll love it.” He pats Alec’s shoulder fondly. 

But Alec shakes his head. “You think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried doing that for years. But it only ends in disaster Magnus, and I don’t know if you have some like super powers where you defy all this stuff or maybe even if you’ve been lying to me about it, but bad shit happens to me, and I’m not  _ not  _ trying to live a good life—I’m trying to survive.”

“But what’s the  _ point  _ of surviving without a good life, Alexander? And what’s the point of trying to survive if you won’t even let yourself  _ try  _ to live that good life?”

Alec drinks his water because he doesn’t know the answer.

“I’m sorry. That got deep quickly.”

Alec shakes his head, swallowing through the unexpected lump in the back of his throat. “It’s alright. Just a…hard conversation, I guess.”

“Indeed. But I meant everything I said.”

Alec nods wearily. “It’s just not that easy,” he whispers.

“I know.”   


They soak in some silence as Alec tries to process everything. 

“I guess this wasn’t the night out you were expecting, huh?”

Alec titters into his glass, staring off into the purple rimmed cat clock Magnus has above his oven—little paws on each hand. “Nope.”

“But hey, at least you tried. And you met a friend. It’s not all bad.”

Alec smiles. “Oh so we’re friends now, huh? I never deemed us that word.”

Magnus hits his shoulder. “Well,  _ I  _ did. So accept it. And also, I’ve never lied to you about a thing, so don’t worry your tits all that much.”   


“My  _ what _ ?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) yes this story will be continued. I'll try to do it as soon as possible.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe  
> happy reading

Alec wakes up with a fuzzy mind and heavy body. He has a mouthful of pillow, covered in drool. Slowly, he tears back the too-warm duvet covers, to expose his eyes to the light and sun in his room. It sparkles and shines, causing his vision to go all white.

“Fuck.” 

A blur of the night before comes to his mind next; warm, green eyes, flashing lights and loud music in choppy sections in his mind, a sparkly purple dress, for some reason, and beer. He definitely knows there was beer. 

What was he doing? How is he still alive?   


Suddenly, before he can attempt to gather up the energy to make his brain perform a complete thought, his ringtone goes off, screeching alarms through the once-peaceful room.

He groans, flopping to his side to claw around the night side table for it. Once he feels the heavy, steel block he assumes to be his phone, he switches it off and collapses back on his bed.

One minute later, the ringtone goes off again.

He grabs it and furiously answers, without even looking at the caller ID. 

“Hello?! It is  _ very  _ early in the morning.”   


“Uh, Alec?”

“Oh. Iz. What is it?”   


He hears a snort. “It’s ten o’clock, dude. I don’t think that classifies as early just quite.”

Alec checks his alarm clock like he doesn’t believe her. He doesn’t. But she’s right. 

“How…when in the hell…?”   


“Must’ve had a hell of a night then?”

Alec groans again, rubbing his sticky eyelids. “I—what did I even  _ do  _ last night?”

Izzy gasps. “Really? So good that you don’t even remember? Gosh I yearn for nights like that nowadays.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “No, I  _ want  _ to remember. That wasn’t the point of last night, but…” He realizes for the first time he’s still wearing the suit from last night, rumpled and dirty and disgusting. 

“Well, let’s see dumbass. I got you some bomb ass clothing. You went off to a club called…Fishy, I think? And then you were on your own. Ring any bells?”

Alec nods, peeling off his socks. “Uh huh, uh huh. And I remember having beer.”

“Well no shit.”   


“Arghh.”

“God, you’re such a lightweight.”

“Shut up. It was my first time in like…”

“In like the entire existence of time?”

“Shut  _ up _ .”

Izzy cackles. Alec gasps at the noise, picking out a certain highlighted memory of someone else having a goofy laugh from last night. Someone who, if he remembers correctly, he didn’t expect a goofy laugh from.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just…”   


“Yes?” she presses impatiently.

“I think I remember meeting someone last night? I—I remember green eyes?”

“Oooh, look at you, stud.”

Alec sighs, padding over to his kitchen after a quick, careful inspection of his room. He can’t help jumping forward into his safe spot for just a moment, giving the room a glance before he’s satisfied enough to go and get himself a glass of water and an Advil.

“Fuck off.”   


“I will not. Now come on, you must remember other details?”   


“I,” Alec rubs his face viciously, almost worried that he’s scratching skin off. “A purple dress? Sparkly?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Is—there something you aren’t telling me?”

“On a  _ man _ , Izzy, on a man.”   


“Oh. Um. Not sure what to say to that.”   


“What? It’s normal,” he squeaks, unconvincing.   


“Oh, I know. I’m just not sure how mom’ll react when you come home with someone dressed in something  _ other  _ than a perfect, clean cut suit of course.”

Alec guffaws, spilling a few drops of water from the pitcher he’s pouring from onto the counter. “Of course she would. But no. I’m sure he wasn’t the guy I was talking to. My guy had green eyes. Purple Dress was more…black…oh! Black sunglasses. He was wearing dark sunglasses.”

“Sunglasses? In a club? Why?”

Alec set his phone on the table and put it on speaker phone. “How am I supposed to know? I hardly remember another thing. He was weird, though. I remember those vibes.”   


“Right.” 

Alec ruffles through a drawer for his Advil and downs it in one gulp with his glass. “Maybe…maybe I have some photo evidence or something?” Alec opens his phone and checks his photos, but alas, the last thing that’s there, (which is correctly the last thing he remembers taking) is a picture of his neighbors pug dressed up as a pig. He grins, but it fades as soon as he realizes he’s still no step closer to remembering the night before.

“Okay, help me out here. Give me something. What other ‘ _ vibes _ ’ as you so called it do you remember from last night?”

Alec pulls out a chair and falls into it, making it scratch against the floor.

“Uhh. I remember feeling happy. Like, really good. And  _ no,  _ before you get the wrong idea, not in  _ that  _ way. And like, surprised, I think. Yeah. I felt pretty surprised a lot throughout the night.”

“Okay, okay, nice. Maybe you could’ve seen someone you already know? A surprise coincidence?”

“I…maybe…?”

“Okay, well let’s narrow it down,” she speaks matter-of-factly. “Who else do you know who has green eyes?”   


This should be pretty easy considering he doesn’t know a lot of people. 

“Errrr— _ oh!  _ Oh oh oh! That  _ guy _ !”

Izzy squeals, clapping her hands on the other side. “You remembered! There’s a guy!”

Alec straightens up, rubbing his hands together. “Yes! Umm, Magnus! His name was Magnus.”

“Ooh. Exotic.”   


“Yes, he was.”   


“What’d you do?” She sounds like a little child begging for a stuffed animal at a convenience store.

“Well, we—uh, we drank, and then I’m pretty sure we went back to his place because, well you know, those clubs are crazy.”   


“Oh great. So you let him know that you’re a pussy on the first date.”

“Wh— _ no _ , Jesus. He agreed.  _ He  _ invited me over.”

“Okay, okay,” she says airily. “Continue.”

“Anyway, I came over, we talked, drank more wine and…yeah. I think he walked me home.”

“Ew. That’s it? You’re so lame. Did you even swap numbers?”

Ignoring the last comment, Alec quickly swipes through his phone, looking for an ‘M’ in his contacts. “Yes! Hah! Yay!”

“Wow. I’m proud, especially for a first-timer. Was he hot?”

Alec thinks back to the experience; the sweet, soft skin, like he bathed in rose-water every night, fluffy hair and tight clothes, mesmerizing hands, pretty lips, and his  _ eyes _ …

“Yeah. I’d say so.”   


“So boom! You scored, man! I’m so proud,” she sighs.

He smiles, hiding it behind his hand. “Yeah, wow, I guess I—”

There’s a loud crash and Alec’s world shakes and drops in a fast motion with a sharp pain from under his bum and thighs. 

“ _ Fuck _ .”

“What? What happened?” Izzy presses, only an ounce of concern in her voice.

“Fucking chair broke underneath me. Without me doing a thing.” He stands and pats off the wood dust from his nice pants. Well, they used to be nice. Which reminds him, he needs to pay Iz back for ruining them. Great. “Typical.”

“Have fun cleaning that up. Also, do me a favor and call this Magnus before the end of the day. I’ll tell you one thing—guys don’t like pussies. Especially gay guys. Don’t be a pussy and just call him. I will know if you didn’t.”

“No you won—”

“Goodbye!”   


Alec sighs, heart jumping around in his chest like a baby rabbit. He ignores the mess on his floor for a second, deciding to deal with that later. If he feels like it. Though, he knows if he doesn’t, he’ll probably break a leg or something walking in the kitchen.

“Whatever,” he says aloud. He needs to stop overthinking things so much. 

Like Magnus said. He needs to learn to just relax. He can do this good life thing. Totally.

He goes to his bed and pops open his chrome book, organizing his tabs quickly. The last searched thing was ‘Calvin Klein suit cost’. Makes sense.

Fact: he had to quit his second job of the summer just a few weeks ago because his boss was a complete ass and exploded when he broke a cup and spilled some coffee. Not only that, humiliated him in front of the entire cafe. So. Another example of him living the life of having to not give a fuck. At least, about things like that. Alec was pretty sure there were way too many other things he gave a fuck about. He needed to give away his fucks. Or better yet, get one in return. Maybe it would help with the fucking stress.

Alec cranes his neck and stares at the ceiling helplessly. The amount of times he’s thought about sex in the past few weeks also probably isn’t healthy. He needs to get laid  _ so  _ bad.

But anyway. The reason he opened his laptop was because it’s time to go job hunting now that he’s unemployed (again.) He’s so desperate he’s beginning to consider asking his mom for a loan, even though he  _ swore  _ to himself that he wouldn’t when he went off to live this whole ‘independent’ life alone.

He sighs, shoving his laptop to the side and collapsing back into his bed. His fluffy covers catch him and envelope him quickly—god bless a duvet.

Already, he feels like he can barely keep his eyes open. He wishes someone were here with him to comfort him and help him and tell him that they would make it through it—someone other then a family member, which is all it’s been for months and months. He wants another person; a boyfriend. Is that so much to ask?

_ Don’t be a pussy and just call him. _

And he might have the chance of having that. He’s just a pussy. Like Izzy correctly stated.

_ Guys don’t like pussies. _

He guesses she’s right. But what excuse would he have to call him? That’s he’s lonely and pathetic? Maybe men hated pussies, like Izzy said, but he’s almost sure they would also hate miserable beggars.

_ Ask him about a job. Maybe he can offer you a suggestion. _

Oh yeah, that’s good. First phone call with a guy he likes should be about the fact that not  _ only _ is he desperate and woeful, he’s unemployed. And practically begging for a job. He  _ really  _ knows what he’s doing.

_ Talk about the other night. _

How is he supposed to do that when he barely remembers a thing?

_ Ask Magnus about what happened. _

Why would Magnus care?   


_ Maybe— _

“Enough,” he says aloud, stopping his inner argument. He’ll claw his hair out, legitimately, if he keeps that up. Fact: having to live in his own mind is unbearable sometimes.

He just needs to stop being a pussy and call him. Izzy’s right. He’s never going to get the confidence to say  _ anything  _ if he doesn’t just pick up his damn phone again. And so what if he doesn’t have something to say? He’ll improvise. Well. That’s scary but. He’s decided that that’s what he’s going to do. He just needs to do it. Get it over with get it over with get it over with.

He’s sweating now, heart thumping in his throat. What is happening to him?

“Just pick up the phone,” he whispers to himself. “Idiot. It’s not a big deal.”

He gets his phone from his pocket and goes to Magnus’s contact with shaky hands. He can do this. He’s  _ brave.  _ Totally.

It starts to ring.

_ Ohgodohgodwhatifhedoesn’tanswerorwanttotalkordoesn'trememberwhoIam— _

“Magnus Bane residentacy, may I ask who’s at the telephone?” It’s a male voice, but with a British accent. He’s ninety five percent sure the Magnus from last night didn’t have a british accent. He double checks that he called the right person before speaking. His nerves have maybe calmed down a bit now that he knows this isn’t Mangus.

“Uhm, hi? I’m looking for Magnus Bane?”

“Oh. Pretty boy?” It’s the same voice, but normal now. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure who this was and I was bored.” There’s a long sigh, and some shuffling. “Like  _ really,  _ really bored. Whoops.”

“Oh. Haha.” Alec doesn’t feel that bad anymore. Magnus is…most likely feeling the same way right now.

“Anyway, what it is up?” He pops the ‘p’ in the last word, using a small mocking voice.

“Uhh.” This is the part where he was expecting to improvise. He thinks for so long that he’s sure he’s starting to sound like a dumbass, so he panics and says, “Nothing.”

_ Dumbass. You are definitely a dumbass. Should’ve kept your mouth shut. _

“Nothing? So what was the fine occasion upon which you decided to dial my lovely number?” 

“Umm? I was bored too, I guess? And, um, you know. Thought we could maybe talk about last night.”

The steady breathing he heard from the other line going into the receiver stopped suddenly, and then started up again a second later, more shaky. 

“Okay,” he hears Magnus say carefully. What the hell happened? Alec frantically tries to go back through his mind files and see where he went wrong, but he can’t find anything.

“What?” He pinches the skin around his fingers.

“I…don’t mean to alarm you, but I don’t exactly remember a lot from last night.”   


Alec lets out a shocked exhale in awe. “Oh! Oh my god, me too! I woke up and I barely even remembered going out!”

The breathing steadies again after a huge sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I was worried I did something stupid and that’s why you were calling or something.”

Alec grins at the thought of Magnus Bane being insecure. “Why? Done a lot of stupid things?” He crosses his legs and leans back against the headboard, pretending Magnus is right next to him instead of a few blocks away probably in his own bed.

Magnus snorts. “Of course. And had a lot of stupid things done to me. You know how it is.”

“The hell I do. A fucking chair broke underneath me today when I was just…sitting there being normal. It’s like God is trying to accuse me of being fat.”

There’s a loud, squawking laugh from his phone. That same goofy laugh from the other night. It doesn't match his personality at all, and that's why he loves it.

“Yeah. I feel that.”

“Right. I don’t think a single bad thing happened to you last night. Are you  _ sure  _ you’re a Bad Luck 10?” He’s mostly teasing, but he’s also half honest, because for real—what the fuck?   


“Yes. I really am. I swear. I wasn’t lying when I said that I wasn’t lying to you last night, Alexander. I swear. I never lie.”

Alec smirks. “Are you like one of those people who never lie but ‘bend the truth’ occasionally?”

“Possibly.” He’s definitely smiling on the other end. Alec laughs. 

This might be the first time in months where this is the second day he’s emitted a genuine, serious laugh with someone. Like, a whole two days in a row of happy laughs. His life usually never consists of that. 

“Would you—” There’s a small, hesitant scoff. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”   


Alec feels like someone just poured molten hot lava into his face, like they opened up his head made him feel all red hot and tingly from the inside. 

“Sure.” His lungs became so abruptly out of breath that his voice sounds like he’s trying to talk through a choke. 

“Great. It’s a date.”   


Alec can’t feel his hands. He’s worried he’s going to drop his phone for a moment. He stares at the wall straight ahead of him, jaw dropped and unblinking.

Did…did he just get asked out? Just like that? From a guy that he actually likes? Is this…how is this happening to him?

See, here’s how it was supposed to go, according to plain  _ facts  _ about his Luck: He would call Magnus. Magnus wouldn’t pick up, either because he’s that unlucky or because he’s being purposely ghosted. If there was some miraculous way that he  _ did  _ answer the call, it was expected to go horribly. Because, well. That’s what he’s been used to his entire life.

So exactly  _ why  _ is this happening and  _ when  _ did it start? Those are the two most important questions on his mind at the time, and he feels like he’s going to scratch his eyes out like a cat if he doesn’t figure it out soon.

“Alec? You there?”

Alec splutters. “Oh—uh—yeah—yes, of—of course. I’m—that’s good. Great. I’m excited.” Fucking hell.

Thankfully, all he gets is a light laugh for his stupidity. (If this was realistic, he was supposed to have gotten cold silence or some shit. Because of his Luck. And yet… _ what the fuck is happening _ .)

“Alright. Well that’s perfect. I’ll text you my address and we can meet up at around 8. Does that sound good?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Yes,” Magnus mocks.

“Shut up,” he chuckles breathlessly. “So um, see you tonight? I guess.”

“See you tonight, Alexander. I can’t wait.”   


And then the call’s over. He’s almost expecting Izzy to pop out of the blue and be like,  _ see? That wasn’t so hard now, was it? _

And wow, his little voice—Izzy is right. That was all it took. That was all he needed to do to land a date with a date with a beautiful man tonight. Who knew. 

_ Well, Izzy did.  _

He tells his own mind to shut up.

Oh god. Now he needs to start preparing for  _ that.  _

It’s ten thirty now. He still has around an entire 9 hours to prepare. But knowing Magnus from the two times he’s seen him in person, he’ll probably go all out in like a sparkly suit resembling Elton John or some shit. And Alec cannot show up looking like the trash bag he normally looks like—Magnus needs to know that he’s trying. 

He picks up his phone again.

“Izzy, I need your help again.”

* * *

Alec feels tinkling shards of glass cut around his heart in nerves as gets in the car for his date, trying his hardest not to sweat through the expensive clothing.

Izzy had pampered him in a rich-looking blue flannel tucked into darker blue skinny jeans and black Chelsea boots. She also did his hair in a completely different way—combed and styled it up in more of a light, attractive fringe then having it sweep over his eyes in the ‘emo’ way it was before. He had to put his foot down at makeup, though. Wasn’t going to happen, not even for Magnus.

Now, well now he’s pretty sure he’s already left a sweat stain on the underarm of the flannel as he pulls into the sidewalk parking space in front of Magnus’s building. It’s just how Alec remembers it before, so that’s a small comfort. Nothing bad happened here last time, nothing bad should happen this time. But maybe he had just gotten some insanely, preposterous twist of fate that had brought him here, now. 

He’s still wary as he walks up and rings the bell. He has no idea what to expect. There’s still a very fine chance that the universe is playing a fucked up trick on him and Magnus actually doesn’t want to go out with him. 

Fact: the last time he went on a date was two years ago. It was with a guy named Mark, who lied and said he was a Good Luck 5. Turns out he was a Bad Luck 5. No wonder everything was shit between them. 

So Alec’s nervous as hell. He’s so nervous that his  _ toes  _ are sweating. He’s so nervous that he has to clench his hands into fists to stop them from shaking violently at his sides. He’s so nervous he barely even acknowledges the voice that comes through the scratchy speaker—a voice asking for him.

“Hello? Is this Alec?” comes a soft voice. Alec clears his throat. It’s action time.

“Yes.” His voice is clipped and not half as sexy as he was planning it to be. “It is,” he adds, trying to seem like he actually wants to be here. 

“Oh lovely, I’ll be right down.”

Right down? They’re going out?

Of course they’re going out. Moron. Did he really think they were just going to stay in their apartment and do basically nothing just because he’s already been in there?

Nope. So now there were more nerves added to the pile. Two Bad Luck 10s out and about in New York City late at night. What could  _ possibly  _ go wrong?   


(Fact: Alec plans out about twenty things that could go wrong in the time it take Magnus to come down from his apartment. There’s about a million more, but he makes himself tuck those away before he literally passes out.)

“Alexander,” Magnus says through a smile, straightening out his cherry red blazer. Alec tries not to stare, but it’s—he’s—

“As I said, darling, don’t keep your mouth open, you’ll catch flies.”

Alec shuts his mouth immediately, probably turning as red as Magnus’s outfit. He looks like he’s dressed to go to a met gala or something—and he’s matching, he’s completely and perfectly matching from head to toe. Alec tries taking in everything—the red trousers and blazer, buttoned at the sternum with a plain, white button down underneath, unbuttoned at the top but still completely stunning on Magnus’s body. It’s like he hired someone to dress him this good. Alec has to stop himself from asking, because he’s pretty sure that Magnus is capable and talented enough to make himself look this good.

There’s also a shiny layer of red eye shadow his hair even has a few layers of red streaks with glitter. Alec finds it hard  _ not  _ to have his jaw drop again.

“Wow,” he says quietly. His outfit is  _ lame. _ “How the hell do you pull that off?”

Magnus laughs a little sheepishly, pulling at his overcoat again. “I just have an extensive fashion sense, I guess. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”   


Alec snorts, unable to help himself as he looks over him again. “Understatement.”

Magnus laughs again, and Alec spots a single gold chain at his neck as he leans back and does that cute thing he does when he laughs. He’s…he’s wearing gold jewelry…

Did God somehow know exactly what Alec wanted and put it together in one thing as his date tonight? Alec needs to make sure he doesn’t touch Magnus and make sure he’s real.

He looks down miserably at his own, boring clothes, and hears Magnus laugh again. A gorgeous sound, really. He’s got to make him do it more often.

“Darling, don’t worry yourself. You look quite ravishing as well.” He puts an arm out. A gentleman. “Shall we?”

Alec gulps, wondering how he’s going to make it through the night. “Sure.”

* * *

Magnus brings him to a more secluded, tiny pizza shop off the main street from his house. It’s close enough to walk, thankfully, and it’s not in front of all those loud, annoying cars, so it’s almost…peaceful, in a way. At least, for New York that is. 

The walk there could be described as that too. Alec feels himself unwind with Magnus, like he’s being taken apart slowly by the thread. He doesn’t expect to have such a good time so early—in fact, he hadn’t expected to have such a good time at all. He’s still hung up on the whole idea that this might be some sick prank though, so he makes sure he’s still on alert.

But otherwise, it’s  _ fantastic _ , and there’s no way he can deny that in any way.

The place is called  _ Larry’s Pizzeria.  _ He’s not going to lie, it isn’t exactly the classiest place. Not that he’s complaining, but from a person like Magnus, he was expecting a more…fancy restaurant. That’s all.

But he trusts Magnus, in a weird way. He seems wise. He probably brought him here for a reason.

The place is small and retro, an oak interior design and smudgy window panes with red booths lining up the wall beside them. The floors are black and white checkerboard—it reminds Alec of his bathroom when he was small. It’s completely empty and deserted—not even an employee in sight. A sting of nerves hits Alec’s stomach, and he prays this isn’t a kidnapping. That would be so unfortunate. 

Magnus walks in like he knows the place, doesn’t even take a second glance. It doesn’t calm Alec’s nerves. “Larry!” he calls out to seemingly no one. Alec waits patiently, hoping he hasn’t lost his mind. “Larry, we’re here!”

_ Please don’t be a murderer please don’t be a murderer please don’t be— _

A short, Mexican, bald man with huge eyes and a messy black stubble walks out, drying his hands on a dirty white cloth. He’s wearing an apron littered with tomato sauce stains, with a grey t-shirt and khaki shorts that don’t look much cleaner underneath. Alec’s quite confused and albeit scared, but then the man drops the cloth and walks towards them with this huge,  _ huge  _ smile, like he just came home to his dog or something.

“Magnus!” He has a heavy accent, and this is starting to feel like some cliche. Never has Alec’s life  _ once  _ felt like a cliche. He guesses tonight’s full of surprises.  __

Magnus and this Larry dude take a quick hug. “Larry. Thanks so much man, I’ll owe you one.”   


He winks at the two of them. “Of course, of course. Have fun you too. Lock up when you’re done.” He tosses Magnus a pair of keys with one hand as he unties his apron with the other, hanging it on a hook with plenty others on the way out. Alec stares after him. Then looks back at Magnus. Then looks back at the door, trying to connect the dots. They’re not forming in his head.

“What—what just—”

Magnus laughs and pats Alec’s back, stuffing the keys in his back pocket. “Relax. You look like a frightened squirrel. Larry and I are close. I’ve known him for years. He let me have the place just for us tonight. See? Now the chance of us dying in public is a bit less.” He grins widely and taps Alec’s nose. “Stop worrying.”   


“You—you got this entire place for us? So I wouldn’t worry about…about what we have?” Alec’s mind feels woozy. He’s never had someone who he was even  _ close  _ with who would do or did something like this, and Magnus is still practically a stranger. Alec still counts someone he knows barely anything about a stranger. 

But here he is, clearing out entire restaurants for him. On the first date. Alec doesn’t believe in these silly things, but this strangely feels like fate. It’s so, so weird.

Hopefully they won’t be strangers by the end of the night. 

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Magnus mumbles, looking away. Alec blanches, deciding to finally change the subject.

“So. What’s this place got for food?”   


Magnus’s smile turns wicked. 

Before Alec knows what’s happening, he’s being pulled into the back, right behind the counter and into the kitchen. It’s just as small and expected as Alec was imagining it—dirty counters with various and unique utensils scattered everywhere, mainly dirty. A large sink with brownish water and a bunch of dishes sitting in it. An oven and a stove that’s filled with crusty pieces of ash from burnt food. In fact, the whole kitchen smells like something was just burning. 

“We,” Magnus announces loudly, as if he’s speaking to an entire crowd. “Are going to  _ make  _ a pizza.”   


Alec stares at him. Magnus seems unfazed. “What?”   


“You heard me. It’ll be fun!”   


Alec looks around wearily. “You sure?”   


“Of course! Now, I’ve never done this before, but—”   


“You’ve never…you’ve never done this before?”   


“No.” Magnus swiftly moves past it. “But that’ll make it all the more fun.”   


“I don’t…exactly see how.”   


“Let  _ loose  _ a little Alexander. It’ll be like a fun little adventure.”   


Alec scratches the back of his neck, sighing and nodding. It’s too early for him to argue with this man. Too soon.

“Alright.” Who knows, maybe they  _ will  _ have fun. Or, another very likely scenario, fuck shit up and burn the whole place down, including themselves. 

Great. Fun. Right. This’ll be loads of fun.

“Okay, first,” Magnus claps his hands together. “We need to make dough. Got any idea how to do that?”

Alec drops his face into his hands.

* * *

Surprisingly, the pizza doesn’t turn out half bad, and they  _ don’t  _ burn the place down. It took them about the first half an hour just trying to  _ find  _ the resources (after cheating and googling a recipe of course), and then there was the mess of creating it. Even with a step-by-step process of things to do online, Alec still managed to mix up the measurements for the dry ingredients  _ twice  _ and end up spilling flour all over the floor and Magnus accidentally preheated the oven too hot, so the kitchen was smoking for about two minutes. At least the pizza was done sooner. 

It strangely  _ was  _ fun, though. They had a flour fight around the middle of it, and Alec was  _ sure  _ that Magnus was going to have to owe this Larry guy probably a bit more than one favor after tonight. There was one especially memorable part that Alec’s  _ sure  _ he will bring up in the near future a lot—a part when Magnus burnt his tongue on the homemade tomato sauce they were trying out (Alec had insisted that there was perfectly good, regular, pre-made tomato sauce that they could use, but Magnus just waved him off and said they had to do it all the way from scratch, just like in Italy. Before Alec could mention that Italy probably  _ did  _ use pre-made tomato sauce as well, Magnus had already flung his wooden spoon in shock and made a series of garbles as he scrambled to the bathroom with a burnt tongue. Alec hasn’t laughed that hard in ages.)

“You know, I have to say,” Alec says through a mouthful of pizza. “This might be one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had.” And Alec thinks he’s not even lying. They’re sitting at the booth farthest from the door, bright street-lights sparkling from the window and giving them a shiny glow. They decided to keep the lights off in the room—it made it feel cozier and more personal, and there was enough light outside from the bright city lights to let them see.

“Hah. Would you look at that? Alexander likes my tomato sauce after all.”   


“Haha. How’s the tongue, by the way?”

Magnus kicks him from under the table, almost making him choke.

“I told you it would be better from scratch.”   


“Right, well, what about the kitchen?” The spilt flour and tomato sauce had mixed and made some sort of…disgusting… _ paste  _ all over the floor. Alec’s shoes were still slightly squeaky from it.

Magnus waves his hand again, cheeks chubby as he chews obnoxiously large bites. It’s sort of hilarious, the way Magnus eats; he’s got this professional, rigid, preciousness about him and everything he does, but he looks like a five year old when he snarfs down food.

“We’ll get it later. No biggy. Larry makes a mess in that kitchen every day, I swear.”

“How long have you been going to this place? How do you even know Larry?”

“Oh well, this place used to be the only place close to my apartment that had good, cheap food. I would come to it  _ very  _ often, especially since I was broke and didn’t have a car—this place was basically my best option for food. Plus, they’re open late. Anyway, Larry has worked here for as long as I’ve come. He’s a great guy, really. We became really close as I came here all the time. He sort of became like a father figure to me; he’d help me through my financial troubles a lot, give me advice—Larry’s great, honestly.”   


“Aw. That’s sweet.”   


“Thank you.”   


They munch on.

“Where are you from?” Alec couldn’t help the question.

Magnus swallows, wipes his hand on a stray napkin, and answers without looking Alec in the eye. “Indonesia.”   


“Oh. That’s really cool. I think I’ve always been from New York. I’m quite boring.”

Magnus glances up, and once their eyes lock, they don’t break apart. “No, I think  _ that’s _ cool. You won’t get judged for anything here—it’s in your blood, you know what you’re doing. When I first came, I was totally clueless.”   


“Well, you got used to it though! Which is good. I’m—I’m glad.”   


Magnus smiles slowly, looking ghostly in the dim light. “Yes. It is a good thing.”

Alec nods, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Right. Well. Yeah.” He hugs his arms in, taking a deep breath. “What time is it?”

“Ten thirty.”

“Wow. It’s only been like two hours?”

“I guess so.”

“Interesting.”

“Yep.”   


“You know what else is interesting?”

“Yes?”   


“That we haven’t encountered, like, a single Bad Luck tonight.” Alec points with his pizza curiously.

Magnus gasps dramatically. “Does my tongue mean nothing to you, Alexander?”   


Alec laughs. “No, it means a lot.”

Well. He just heard his words replay again in his head. That sucked. 

He shakes his head, pushing the thought away. “No, no, you know what I mean. This is… _ weird.  _ Different. I’ve never…I’ve never had an experience like this. Like, one where the biggest thing that goes wrong is burnt tongue.”

Magnus narrows his eyes. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

Alec grins. “Of course not.”

“Well, darling, it’s just like I said. Our lives don’t have to be this horrible, twisted things, like the media makes us believe.” He leans in a little close and drags his palm gently across Alec’s hot cheek. “We’re allowed to be happy too.”   


Alec swallows heavily. “I know, but…this still just feels too different.”

“It’s called happiness.”   


He thinks he’s going to be kissed then, but all Magnus does is wink and pull away. Alec sighs, slumping. 

“Anyhow, I think I’ve had enough pizza for the night.” 

He was right, it was quite a large pizza. 

“Yeah. Should we clean up the kitchen?”

Magnus wipes his hands slightly on his trousers, sighing. “I guess we should. Maybe  _ this  _ is our ‘Bad Luck’, Alexander. Cleaning is my worst nightmare.”

Alec snickers, following him into the back. “See, I think this is just our own faults.”

* * *

“I hope you know you’ve completely ruined my beautiful red suit.”

Alec stops when they step outside, looking him up and down. He shrugs. “I don’t see that much damage. The tomato sauce blends in. The flour can be washed out.”

Magnus glares. “Oh, shut up.”   


Alec giggles. “You should be more worried about my clothing. You have no idea how hard it was to gather this together. I’m telling you, this is  _ not  _ what I normally wear. You got lucky. From now on, you’re gonna have to deal with the gross version of me.” Alec points a finger warningly.

“Oh  _ boy _ .” Mangus throws a hand over his heart, jerking his head back. Alec cackles. “Whatever shall I do now?”   


Magnus locks the place up, as promised, and they walk Alec home first. The streets look like a movie—city lights floating like tiny planets standing out against the dark sky. Cars are softer, quieter, and slower in this part of town at this hour. It’s comforting, makes it much better to walk home. Sure, there are still loud honks and screeches and police sirens, but he feels strangely more at home than ever. Maybe it’s Magnus.

Actually, he’s almost certain it’s Magnus.

“So.” He idles with his fingers in his pockets, looking around for nothing at all. “This is me.” He doesn’t even gesture.

Magnus nods solemnly, not looking the slightest bit nervous. Alec feels a boatload of pressure, but he guesses that’s just him. He wonders if that’s a good or bad thing.

A few moths are gathered around the light attached to his building, like their invading on the scene below. They cast flickery shadows as they gather and flap around the light. 

“Well, um. This was fun. I’ll text you.”

He waits. 

Magnus steps forward, a big, confident smile all over his face. But it’s not a genuine one—at least, not the ones he’s seen tonight. It looks staged. 

He wants to tell him that there’s no need to feel staged with him. He’s safe. He’s nice. He likes honesty better. 

“I think it was more than fun. It was  _ wonderful. _ ”

A small snippet of a song blares in his head when Magnus leans in, an empowering song. He feels like there should be a band and a whole group of camera men behind them, filming for a musical. 

He hears all these things in his head. He hears the cheering and the music and the fireworks and the applause. Just for a kiss. 

But really, they’re just two men standing on the sidewalk pressing their lips together, being watched by no one. Except maybe that creep that lives on the second floor.

Magnus’s hand goes to Alec’s waist, slipping it around him smoothly to pull him in flush. Alec sighs, letting his eyes droop closed and mouth do the work. No more thinking. No more thoughts. He clutches Magnus’s bicep through his blazer, feeling the thick material between his finger tips, and he feels like he’s holding Magnus to him as they fall and tumble through the universe together—it’s all alright though, because he’s holding on, and their together. Magnus’ll never slip through his fingers again because of this. He feels like they’ll be connected. 

Their tongues clash and twist, and Alec really notices that Magnus is a  _ good  _ kisser. It’s not a huge need in a relationship, but oh god, a good kisser makes things ten times better. Alec doesn’t know how he would take a slobbery, teeth-clasher seriously. 

It gets hot, too. Alec doesn’t have a lot of kisses that get farther than five seconds, if he’s honest, because of some stupid Bad Luck that gets in the way. But Magnus must have some special force field or something, because here Alec is, getting well into kissing this guy. 

He lets himself forget about the world, the noises, the moths, and the cars. It’s just the two of them, and it’s so sweet and perfect. Just like a movie.

He moves his hands to cup Magnus’s cheeks, holding him like he would a vase or thin artwork of glass. Magnus leans into the touch softly. His cheeks feel like silk. 

Eventually, they have to pull apart, noses red and eyes dazed. Alec’s never seen him look so vulnerable and open the entire night. He looks like what a field of colorful flowers would look like if they were just one person; gorgeous to look at. Soft and wondering.

“That was really, really nice,” Alec whispers, licking his lips. Magnus tips his head back and laughs, and just back Alec feels this random rush of adrenaline, he finally leans forward and does the thing he’s been thinking about doing ever since the first time Magnus bared his neck in a laugh like that. 

He leans forwards and sucks his lips to the skin there, licking a little and starting a path. Magnus gasps, the action clearly unexpected, and he clutches at Alec’s back. 

“O—oh, god, you’re full of surprises aren’t you Alexander—”

Alec pulls away, and Magnus’s face looks the same as before, just more shocked. Like the flowers are more intense.

“Thank you. For everything. This has been the most fun date I’ve ever had, I think.”

Magnus twirls a piece of Alec’s hair that’s hanging in front of his eyebrow, tucking it away. “I’m so glad. I hope we have many more where I can show you what it truly means to have fun.”

Alec slaps his arm as he laughs. 

“Yes. Thank you.”   


They don’t let go of each other. 

“I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Alec shakes his head. “Text me when you get home. So I know you got there safely.”

Magnus’s cheeks may pinken a little, but Alec may also just be seeing things. “Sure. Alright.”

“Alright,” Alec parrots, finally pulling himself away. The later it gets, the more dangerous. “Walk safe, Magnus.”

Magnus walks away backwards, giving him a small salute. “Oh, I’ll try my best.”

Butterflies stay fluttering around Alec’s stomach for the rest of the night. 

_ I’m home, baby. Thanks again for the great night. I hope to see you again soon.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanna leave meh a comment and make me day? fanks very much luv.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh, this chap is a mess. I'm a mess. We're all messes. But happy reading :).

Alec is sick of cereal. He’s had it for breakfast every single morning for the past six boring months of his life, and he’s sick of it.

He thinks he’s going to have an epiphany today.

“Alec? Why are you here? And shaking?” Izzy says to him after he drives all the way to his parent’s house to see her. He’s standing on the steps, staring up at her with a bright smile. She’s just wearing sweats, like she rolled out of bed. Her hair is a big poof, face bare. She probably _did_ just wake up.

“I think I’m having an epiphany,” he says.

She blinks at him, rubbing her eye. She checks her phone. “At eight in the morning? Alec what could you possibly be having an epiphany about?”

“About  _ life _ .” It’s so obvious. Shouldn’t it be so obvious?

Izzy does not look like she understands as well as Alec needs her to.

“Well, if you’re going to stand out here and blabber might as well come in. Don’t want any bugs.” She steps out of the way and lets him inside. He gets a few tingles of nostalgia—he hasn’t been back home in what feels like forever. There’s a new watercolor painting of a ballerina on the wall in the dining table, one that replaced that creepy cat one. He likes this one better. 

“Okay,” Izzy sighs when they reach the living room, flopping on the couch like she has better things she could be doing right now. “What’s up?”

Alec sits in the green armchair across from her. That’s always been Jace’s armchair, but. Oh well. Where is Jace, anyway?   


“Where’s Jace?” He looks around, as if he’s hiding somewhere in the room ready to jump out and scare him. He wouldn’t put it past him, if he’s honest. 

Izzy gestures carelessly with a hand. It’s pink nails today. “I have no idea. Could be on Mars.”   


Alec snorts. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

Izzy rubs her eyes again. “Alec, why are you here?”   


“Because,” he states boldly. “I’m having—”

“Yes, I know. But explain.”

“Well. I think—I think that life is filled with—with too much boring things. People need to…step out of their comfort zone more often. Take risks. Try new things. Like every day.”

“You sound like a cringy youtuber.”   


“And like, screw this boring life, you know? I’m tired of living in it.”

“You know who you remind me of right now?” Izzy says, disregarding the actual meaning behind his words. “Like, a game show host. The way you’re talking, at least. From the  _ words  _ you’re speaking, it seems like you’re…” she puts her finger on her mouth in mock wonder.

Alec sighs. “A cringy youtuber?” he supplies.

She shakes her head. “No…no…more like the protagonist in a story after they go through like a huge…” she waves her arms wildly in the air, trying to think of some good way to describe it. “Crazy affair. So did you call Magnus last night? Did y’all do something? Is that what this is about?”

Maybe.

“ _ No! _ ”   


“So you didn’t call him?” She sits up, looking angry. 

“I—I mean, no, I did—”

She claps her hands together. “Oh my god, yay! What’d he say, what’d you guys talk about?”

Alec scowls, pointing a finger at her. “I know what you’re doing.”   


“I know what  _ you’re  _ doing.”   


“Wait, what?”

“Huh?”

“Izzy—”

“Alec. Tell me what happened last night. Now.”

“Okay, alright. Magnus and I went out. On a date.”

She gasps, and then her eyes widen in realization. “Ohh, I see, I get it.”

“Get what?”   


“Why you’re acting weird. You’re freaking out a little. About this.”

“I am  _ not _ —” he starts hotly.

“Yeah, okay. Anyway, tell me all about it. Where’d you guys go, what’d you do?”

Alec grunts. “We—he took me to this little pizza bistro. And—and he did the weirdest, yet strangely, sweetest thing; he knew the owner there, so he kicked him out and we got to stay there and do whatever we wanted after closing hours. Which basically meant two Bad Luck 10s completely fucking up that poor man’s kitchen. Because we made homemade pizza. Oh, and I mean from  _ scratch, _ tomato sauce and all. Magnus freaking burnt himself, and—what?” Alec says mid-laugh.

“Oh man. You guys are like  _ this _ , dude! Congrats!” She claps her hands together, evidently showing that  _ this  _ means no space between her hands at all. Or very close. 

“We’re not like  _ that _ , yet, okay? It’s—it was just a fun night.”

“Between friends?” she deadpans.

“Well, no, but—”

“How do you know?”

“Because he called it a date and kissed me at the end!” he blurts.

Izzy raises her eyebrows, draping an arm up above the couch cushion behind her casually. “Saucy.”   


Alec rolls his eyes. “It was just nice,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.   


Izzy nods. “I can tell. You’re all heart eyes over him already. It’s concerning. No—pathetic,” she corrects, nodding. Alec rolls his eyes again. “And I’m not really sure why you came all the way here to tell me this, but uh, that’s great for you. I applaud you.” She smiles with her teeth, falsely.

Alec sniffs. “Yeah, I really don’t know why I’m here too. I don’t think I’m having an epiphany. I think—”

“That you were just freaking out a bit after last night and needed someone, like your big ol’ brave sister, to set you straight? Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says nonchalantly, picking at her nail. 

“I—shut up.”

“You really gotta go out there and make some new friends. Have an epiphany about  _ that _ .”

“Shut  _ up _ .”

“I think that I just won’t.”   


“Okay, goodbye.” Alec sits up, straightening out his t-shirt and walking to the door.

“Bye bye! Gonna go back to sleep now! You still have to pay me back for that outfit, by the way!” she calls as he walks out. 

The sun’s shining again in the perfect, cloudless, summer sky. It’s a bit hard to see the road as he drives home with the sun blinding him, still low in the sky, but the good news is that he doesn’t crash, so.

Fact: the likeliness of a Bad Luck 10 of getting in a car crash is much higher than the average Lucker. And the average Lucker has a pretty high chance too. Cars are dangerous. Cars are scary. That’s why Alec likes avoiding cars at all costs, but it doesn’t matter. 

“Shit.” He forgot to tell Izzy about the whole weird situation with Magnus last night. How they both actually had a good time instead of accidentally getting killed or hurt or something, like they were expecting to. At least, Alec was.

He calls her and puts her on speakerphone in the car. She answers on the fourth ring. 

“ _ What _ ?”   


“Jeez. I just forgot I had more to tell you.”

Alec can  _ feel  _ her roll her eyes from 13 miles away. “Shoot. And this better be fast, because I was trying to sleep.”

“Okay, okay. So. Another super,  _ super  _ weird thing happened last night that’s never happened to me before and that’s unprecedented, I think. At least, for me. And this isn’t the first time—”

“ _ Get to the point. _ ”

“Sorry,” he coughs. “Anyway. Last night, Magnus and I, two Bad Luck 10s, experienced basically no Bad Luck.”

“That’s it?”

“No, no, listen. It’s bigger than that. Like, look—on an average day for me, Magnus wouldn’t have even answered his phone. We wouldn’t have survived to the end of the night,  _ especially  _ because he’s a Bad Luck 10 as well.” 

“Right.”

“And, and it’s weird—” he stutters as a car puts on their blinker to turn into his lane while he’s literally right next to them. He beeps and backs up violently, almost crashing into the car behind him. 

“Alec, you there?”

Alec clears his throat, steadying himself. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Anyway, umm, what was I saying…oh yeah, it’s weird because we were like  _ cooking  _ in a  _ kitchen.  _ Homemade pizza. I know that’s not the most dangerous meal to cook, but damn it Izzy I get nervous making mac and cheese sometimes. But we just straight up made a pizza dough and tomato sauce. How the hell did that even happen? How did the entire night happen? Just the two of us together should’ve like broken the atmosphere!”

“That  _ is  _ weird. But um. I’m not sure how to help you there Alec. I mean, maybe it was just a stroke of luck. Wait. No.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Hmm. Maybe God was just feeling nice. Maybe this was just some weird, crazy, once in a lifetime experience.”

“But that’s the thing!” Alec exclaims, clutching his wheel in frustration. “It’s happened every time we’ve like, interacted! And Magnus seems to think fucking nothing of it! Like, when we first met, if he really  _ was  _ a Bad Luck 10, that entire wine shelf would’ve fallen and killed us both, I’m sure of it.”

“The whole—what?” Izzy sounds exasperated.

“So—so maybe I just confront him about it? Because I swear, he’d have to be like a Good Luck 10 for me to have  _ no  _ Bad Luck when I’m around him. Which would kind of be sucky because why would he lie about it?” Alec shakes his head, sighing. Relationships are taxing already.

“Look, Alec,” Izzy says, bored. “Just do whatever you want, okay? Don’t think about it. Thinking is  _ not  _ good for you. Ask him whatever. Tell him whatever. Figure it out. Now, maybe I can give you better advice when I’ve gotten a proper sleep, so I suggest you leave me alone.”

Alec swallows. “Right. Yes. Sorry. Goodbye. Thank you.”

“Bye, dumbass.”

Alec drives the rest of the way home thinking too much. Unhealthy indeed.

* * *

Alec’s day continues to be very, very uneventful. He waits and he waits for some explosion to happen down the street or something, or someone mysterious to knock on his door, but strangely, he never gets those things. 

Perhaps he’s been watching too many films. He has too much free time, really. 

Now, it’s he’s on movie four—Clueless. He has no idea why he’s watching this or when it came on the television, but here he is, eating kettle corn on his couch and rating the movie like he’s a critic. 

But kettle corn doesn’t fill up how lonely he really is, on the inside.

He misses Magnus. He misses Magnus so bad, and it’s only been a day. He might’ve been distracting himself with movies the entire day to keep his mind off that glittery man, because  _ honestly,  _ how much is it humanly possible to think about a person per day? No, no—per  _ hour _ ?

Alec shoves probably a whole handful of kettle corn in his mouth, as if it’ll stop the overflow of his thoughts. What the  _ fuck  _ is going on?

It’s way too needy and desperate to call him the day after their first date. Right? It should be.  _ Magnus  _ hasn’t texted him or anything all day, so that’s probably a sign. A sign that he’s busy or that it’s just too desperate and needy to text or call the day after.

Or a sign that he’s in trouble. Or just as lonely and nervous as Alec. 

It’s also probably very likely that he’s in trouble; that is, if he’s a Bad Luck 10 like he claims to be. Alec really wants to know, if he’s honest.

He stares at his phone, smudgy screen watching him tauntingly from the coffee table. Alec itches to just pick it up and send out a text. Is it too risky? Should he even be asking that with his Luck?

Well. They’ve only been on one date. He figures if Magnus can’t handle a text the day right after, it’s not meant to be. And even though Alec  _ really  _ wants it to be meant to be, he…he should just send the goddamn text and stop thinking about it.

When he tries to pick up his phone from the table, it slips out of his hand and smacks onto the floor with a loud, uncomfortable sound. Great.

And yep. The screen is cracked almost all over, nearly impossible to see. He smirks to himself. And there’s a good reason why he has a screen protector. Fuck you universe.  _ I get a win sometimes. _

He peels the protector off, tossing it away. With shaky hands, he forces himself to go to Magnus’s contact. It’s just ‘Magnus’. Boring Magnus. Maybe he should change it up. Put a heart next to it or something.

No. Too early.

_ Overthinking,  _ he scolds himself lightly in his head, but he tries to ignore that. He needs to focus on his current task.

Now he’s blanking on what to say. 

Maybe…maybe he can say he enjoyed the date?   


He cringes. He already  _ said  _ that last night, for fucks’s sake. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s crap at this anyway. He should just let it be and leave it alone. He turns off his phone.

Two minutes later he turns it back on, sighing frustratingly and staring at the screen like he’s waiting for Magnus to start up a conversation or something. It’s not going to happen but. It’s a nice way to procrastinate. 

He needs to up his game. Magnus is probably super experienced and skilled. He’s probably out at a fashion show with celebrities right now, just living his best life and flirting with other men. Alec is hopeless. What chance does he have with that man? It’s like the chances of…of a peasant with a prince or something. Which—okay, yeah, in all the cliche movies, the peasant  _ always  _ ends up with the prince, but that’s not the point. This isn’t a cliche movie, and he needs to get his head out of his ass and just  _ text him. _

Okay. Yes. He can totally do this.

Just…just needs to type.

_ I really had a graet— _

No. He deletes it. He spelt great wrong anyway. He sucks at spelling.

_ Are you free tonight? Dinner at my place and a movie? I mean, I may not be as good at making tomato sauce, but I swear I can make a mean salad ;). _

Well…yeah. That actually doesn’t sound bad. 

Although, he hasn’t told him that he’s vegan or vegetarian yet. And to be frank, he’s not sure how Magnus isn’t either. Well, Alec did secretly use vegan cheese for the pizza last night, so he guesses there’s a possibility that Magnus might be those things, but still. Salad is boring. What if Magnus doesn’t like it?   


He almost reaches into his head and smacks his brain for overthinking again. He wishes it could be the new year already so he could make a New Year’s resolution to stop  _ fucking overthinking.  _ Although, it’s not like people stick to those things anyway.

Anyway. He’s getting off topic. 

Taking a deep breath, he sends the text, sneaky smile on his face. Unfortunately, angels don’t ascend from the sky to congratulate him and he just has to sit here in silence alone. Well, alone besides the bitching girl on TV.

Whatever. The point is that he sent it.

His brains swirls for a moment, thinking up about a million things that could wrong and the two most popular ones—what if he doesn’t answer? What if he says no?  
But Alec refuses to focus on those things. He decides that _this_ is going to be his New Year. Right now. He doesn’t care. He’s going to create a resolution for the _summer_ , right here right now. He will stop overthinking. He will just go with his gut and take the risks.

He stands slowly and shuts off the TV, making sure his phone is in a tight grip in his hands as he steps across the living room to the bookshelf with drawers so he can pull out the spare screen protector in it. 

He busies himself for the next half an hour with chores that can probably take a much shorter amount of time if he wasn’t a Bad Lucker. But he ignores his mind again—he puts on his stereo and starts playing Oh Wonder, he sweeps up the mess of his kitchen chair from the other day and looks through amazon for a new chair, he puts on his new screen protector with very careful, practiced precision.

And by the time he’s done with all that, going even slower than usual because he’s hesitant to check his phone, Magnus still hasn’t answered. Wonderful.

Well, it wasn’t going to be just handed to him. And it's already dark out, so he just guesses this isn’t going to happen tonight. He doesn’t know why he was expecting it was.

He changes into Adidas track pants and a white tank top that he stole from Jace which is just a bit too small on him. He skips brushing his teeth and doing his nightly routine, because honestly, it’s not essential and he doesn’t feel like dealing with the stress of completing more tasks today. He just wants to lay down and drink kombucha and watch The Little Mermaid.

He switches off all the lights, narrowly avoiding tripping over the carpet on his way to the couch, and settles back with a blanket that doesn’t even cover his feet. He clicks on the TV, intending very seriously to watch Disney movies until he falls asleep. It’s a little nerve-wracking, seeing as he  _ is  _ a grown adult, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s here to watch or judge.

The only light in the room becomes the glow of the screen, which is eerily calming. It’s like all of his other problems just disappeared because he doesn’t live in New York anymore—he lives in The Little Mermaid (wherever the hell that is), and all he can see or focus on is that movie.

Wow. He sure is getting tired.

Around maybe half-way through the movie, right as Alec’s settled in a little better and has started to let his eyes drift shut, there’s a knock on his door. He startles, banging his head on the lamp looming above the arm of the couch.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he whispers, throwing off the blanket and padding to the door, wobbling a little from the sudden movements. So much for relaxation and peace. His problems are back.

He looks through the little peephole of course, worried about danger, but what he sees almost makes his heart leap out through his chest and start bouncing around. It’s ridiculous, is what it is. What is  _ happening _ ?

Why is  _ he  _ here?

“Magnus?” Alec says, squinting at the bright light from the hallway. He can barely see him for a second, but once he comes slowly into view, the first thing he notices is the bright, cocky smile on his lips. Damn, it must be  _ late _ . What is he doing here?   


Then Alec notices what he’s wearing—a white-striped black, slick, and sharp blazer coat with fancy buttons on top of  _ nothing,  _ as in his bare, slick chest which is decorated with such a thick variety of gold necklaces Alec thinks that their tattoos for a second. He’s wearing matching trousers (what’s new) with six buttons on the front that cover his belly button, and black heeled boots. His eyelids are smoked over in dark powder, matching the outfit, and finished off with a perfect, grey, glittery liner. All the dye is out of his hair, now just a smooth black that frames his face like a painting. If he  _ was  _ a painting, Alec would want to hang him up on his wall. 

And then there’s Alec. With his sweatpant pajamas. 

_ Great. _

“I brought dinner?” Magnus says, holding up a picnic basket that looks pretty heavy and has a bottle of wine sticking out of it. He looks completely unfazed that Alec looks like  _ this  _ while he looks like  _ that.  _ Honestly.  _ What? _

If Magnus thought he was too boring before, seeing him like  _ this,  _ which is literally the least he’s ever tried, should truly do the trick.

Well, he thought that Magnus not answering was his Bad Luck, but no. Apparently this is it. Mortal humiliation. Lovely.

“Magnus…you—what’re you doing here?” He rubs at his eye, defeated.

Magnus shrugs. “You invited me over, said you could cook and all, but I thought it would be rather nice if I popped by and gave you a little surprise. Man, you don’t even know the effort it took me to get here lugging this thing  _ and  _ avoiding getting killed.”

That forces a laugh out, surprisingly. 

“Yeah. It looks heavy.”

Magnus nods, grinning. 

Alec scratches the back of his neck. “So, uh, elephant in the room—you look—look like  _ that  _ and I’m just plain ol’ dressed like this. I—yeah.”

Magnus shrugs, making him blush a little as he looks him up and down. “You know, it’s not that bad. I mean, I’m sure you can do better, but I think anything looks good on you dear. Besides, I don’t really care. Now are we going to just sit out here and eat all this, or…?”

Alec shakily lets him in, completely forgetting about the Disney playing in the background. The Little Mermaid is just ending, and Magnus goes straight for the couch, plopping himself down and staring at the screen. Alec sets off to turn on a couple lights. 

“Oh—um, yeah, I was just—I don’t—” 

“Man, I  _ love  _ this movie. People who didn’t watch this in their childhood don’t know what they’re missing, honestly.” Magnus sits back, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Alec turns on the dim lights, figuring they won’t need a lot of light anyway.

“Well, that’s good,” he sighs as he walks over to sit next to him. They’re a good distance apart and he’s rather uncomfortable with that, but. Oh well. 

In fact, he finds out that he’s still rather uncomfortable with the whole situation, to be frank. Magnus—he just—he doesn’t have any right to come on in here and look that  _ good  _ while Alec looks like one of those sad dads who just eats chips and watches television in the back of a movie. Magnus looks like he could  _ be  _ in a movie. As a pop star, for fucks’s sake.

And Alec hadn’t even had a single moment to prepare. Mentally or physically. He hadn’t even cleaned his house, goddamn it, he is so screwed.

Magnus lays out the food across the table, setting out a red plaid tablecloth first. Alec smirks.    


“Going all the way old-fashioned again?”

“Yep.”   


He pulls out a total of seven things—the red wine, two glasses, a tupperware case of egg salad sandwiches, a glass case of a salad, a Ziploc bag of edamame and a Ziploc bag of chocolate chip cookies. If he’s honest, he’s never seen a more appealing meal in his life up until this moment. Probably. 

Fact: Alec is usually always the cook and the host when people come over. He cleans, he prepares a three-course meal, and of course, he makes sure his guests feel the most at home here. He does his research. He has fun with it. It always ends up great.

He’s never once encountered a surprise visit late at night by the cute guy who didn’t answer his text.

Speaking of which—what time  _ is  _ it, exactly?   


“Holy shit,” he murmurs. Magnus looks up from where he was working on opening the bottle. “It’s ten o’clock already.” Magnus, again, still doesn’t look bothered. What the hell is wrong with this man?   


“Wow. Oh how time flies, huh?”

Alec stares at him for a moment, a little baffled. How does someone just…do things like that? As confidently as that. Maybe he should ask Magnus to give him lessons.

Alec suddenly remembers—”Oh yeah, um, how do you not care about what others wear? I mean—okay, that came out wrong, but I’m talking about our conversation. You know how you said that you didn’t really care? I just—your fashion sense is impeccable, which is amazing, I’m just wondering why…me dressed like this doesn’t bother you.” Alec motions to his crumpled up, dirty clothing miserably.

Magnus gives him one small smile and one small answer. “Mind over matter.”   


Oh.

“Oh. So as in you…you don’t care what I wear because you just care for my personality? Which—sorry, that isn’t a bad thing, I—just want to clear this up. That sounds cool.” He's so fucking lame.

Magnus nods. “Yes. A much better and easier way at living in life. Really helped me a lot. If only everyone could do it.”

“You—” He almost says ‘you’re amazing’, but refrains. It might be a little too early. He doesn’t know. Whatever. He’s insecure.

“What?”   


“Nothing.”

Magnus eyes him warily, but ignores it otherwise.

“Alright well—let’s dig in!”

Alec stares at him, imagining for a second being in his shoes. He imagines impulsively deciding to dress up more stunning than a model to go out and surprise someone who may or may not be their boyfriend with a picnic basket and wine at ten o’clock at night. He would never be able to do it. He would probably barely get the courage to  _ text back,  _ yet here Magnus is, proving the impossible. Quite literally. According to statistical facts, Magnus literally shouldn’t be here right now. It must’ve been impossible to get over here with the heavy basket. 

But. As he knows. A whole crap ton of shit has happened that is literally the opposite of any sort of fact with them. 

It bothers Alec a little bit. Okay, he’s a little stubborn. He just wants an explanation. He’s been beat up his entire life, and all of a sudden he meets Magnus, and it’s like he’s this magic fairy who just takes all of that away? How is this possible? He just wants to know.

“What should we watch?”   


Magnus shrugs, sitting back with his glass of wine. Alec watches him carefully, looking for any signs that he might spill it. What? He has a nice couch that he likes thank you very much. Sue him.

“I don’t know. How long are you planning on staying here?”

“Not sure.” He pulls a sheepish face. “Would it be totally against your rules if I stayed the night?”   


Alec raises his eyebrows at him. “Uh—no—what—no! It’s—that’s completely fine! I’d love that! What—what rules, what do you mean?” Alec laughs nervously. 

Magnus shrugs. “Well, you know.” He gestures to Alec’s…being. “You’re just a little…high-maintenance sometimes. Which isn’t a bad thing. That’s actually sort of like Good Luck for a Bad Luck.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It’s cute. You being all organized and shit like that. I could never.”

“Sorry—if you don't mind me asking, but how are you, like,  _ not  _ high-maintenance? How do you just live such a good, easy life? You really make it seem so easy,” Alec mutters.   


Magnus shrugs again, making it seem careless and casual.  _ Again.  _ “I just do, Alexander. And I’m here to help you with that too. I promise we’ll get there.” He winks playfully. “And here for other things too of course.”   


Alec face flushes, thinking about Magnus sleeping in his bed tonight. 

“Like giving you food!” he exclaims excitedly, thrusting that case of salad in Alec’s hands. “This took longer than it should’ve. I never work with plants. I really hope you like it.”

This pulls a laugh from Alec, dissolving the tension inside him for a second. “I’m sure I will. Thank you. I'm vegetarian and vegan, so."

"Oh. That's quite nice."

"Yeah." Alec scratches the back of his neck, picking up the remote. “Maybe…maybe we can just talk? Not like…watch TV? Just if you want. I don’t know.”

Magnus doesn’t react for a moment, just sits frozen in place. But then a slow smile spreads across his face, calming Alec’s heart a little. 

“Of course. I’d love that, Alexander.”   


* * *

“No, no—hey, I’m  _ serious,  _ she literally fired me because she thought that I was too ‘bizarre’. Fucking weird man. And unfair. I’m allowed to wear whatever I want to work.”

Alec’s just recovered from possibly his third laughing fit tonight, setting himself straight again. The room feels lighter and warmer, and his head feels fuzzier, but in a nice way. Maybe he is a lightweight. Maybe he’s not. It’s whatever.

“That—might be the funniest story I’ve ever heard,” Alec wheezes, wiping fake tears. Magnus squints at him. 

“Please. You’re such a lightweight.”

“Hey!” Alec hiccups. “Shut up.” 

Magnus laughs, reaching forward and plucking the fifth glass of wine out of Alec’s pliant hands. “I think that’s enough for tonight, sweetheart.”

“Heyyy,” Alec whines, reaching back for it. He hiccups again, and it jolts his whole body, which is…tiring. He’s tired. He slumps forward on his knees, which are pulled up to his chest, letting his arms flop.

“Wow, gave up that quick, huh?”

Alec nods, sighing loudly. “Yes,” he mumbles. “Tired.”

“Alright, well I guess that’s enough chat for tonight then. I’ll go throw out this trash and then we can go to bed, alright sweetheart?”   


“Mmm,” Alec replies. His eyes feel heavy. And warm. He feels so warm.

Two seconds later, he feels hands under his armpits and lifting him up onto his feet. He groans and leans back into that warm, warm body, letting it lead him to his bed. Magnus is so nice. So nice.

“What’re you doing?” he slurs, staring at Magnus with wide eyes all of a sudden as he sees him start to strip, holy—

“You have a really pretty chest,” he breathes without meaning to. 

Magnus laughs, loud and proud, flipping his hair back. “Thank you darling. I don’t suppose you have makeup remover anywhere, right?”

Alec furrows his brows, trying to process this. Magnus chuckles sweetly. 

“Alright. That’s fine. You don’t mind a few smudges on your pillows, right?”

Alec opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again.

“Yes,” he eventually chokes out, like it took him a lot to place the letters and sounds together into that word. 

“Yes, you do mind the smudges?”   


Alec frowns. “No?”

Mangus rolls his eyes fondly, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his hairline. “Alright, love. Don’t worry. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Alec nods, happy again. “Okayie.”

“Okayie,” Magnus repeats with a grin, tucking back some of his hair. Alec can’t think right now. Some part of his brain wants him to think, gets him feeling that there’s something he should be thinking about right now, but all he can think about is the fact that he can’t think. All he can do is lay there like goo, his rational mind replaced with Magnus and…well, goo.   


A few minutes later, as Alec tries to think of what he should be thinking about and Magnus strips down to just his boxers, the lights turn off (Magnus’s doing) and the bed dips next to him. He jumps, and then jumps again when he feels arms wrap around his waist.

“Relax, baby. It’s me.”

“Oh.” He wraps his arms the best he can around Magnus’s shoulders, despite the awkward position; he doesn’t feel like moving.

“Goodnight darling.”

“Goodnight.”

But he can…he can feel Magnus’s bare skin attached to his and it’s burning,  _ burning  _ hot and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. All he can do is stare up at the blank, dark ceiling and pray, pray for freedom from his tsunami of a mind. 

This is the most undressed Magnus has ever been this close to him. It’s overwhelming, and now, suddenly, Alec’s thinking  _ way  _ too much. He’s uncomfortable. He’s squirmy. He is suddenly  _ nowhere  _ near sleep.

He starts forcing himself to think of other things. He thinks back to their amazing night, knowing that all these memories are likely to be gone in the morning. He wants to savor them while he still can. The laughing, the stories, the silliness. He felt like he was in a safe bubble with his best friend the entire night. He’s finding himself always feeling separate from the world when he’s around Magnus. It’s a staggering, breath-taking feeling. He looks back on his life and realizes, in small alarm, that he doesn’t think he’s felt that with anyone. 

This—this is crazy. He feels rebellious. He’s only known Magnus for a couple days, and this is already special.  _ He  _ feels special just for being able to feel like this. Letting himself, in fact. He never lets himself feel. This feels so…strange.

He doesn’t quite know how this happened. It was all really so quick. One moment he was sworn off relationships and the next he’s wondering if they’re proclaimed to be boyfriends yet as he’s kissing a man on his front step. 

Truly mind-boggling.

He looks down at Magnus. All he can really see is his hair, but he can feel his steady breathing against his collar bone. Magnus calms him. Magnus makes him have fun, see life a little differently. A little…better. Magnus makes him want to go out and adventure, do impulsive things and—and  _ feel  _ stuff. It’s sort of insane. For him.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and finally allowing himself to let go. He knows he’ll still have a piece of this night in the morning. Maybe not the food and the laughing and the stories, but he’ll have the  _ feeling,  _ and that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? 

* * *

Funny story: he wakes up squirmy and uncomfortable. For a very, very particular reason. His head is also throbbing. 

And Magnus is sleeping right next to him.

Perfect. Just perfect.

He rubs his crusty eyes, flexing his hands and arms. The slight brush of the duvet on his groin makes him jerk—apparently his problem is worse than expected. 

Well. It’s just his luck. What else is new?

He fixes it in the shower, trying too hard not to think about Magnus but then failing. Jeez, he’s a freak. 

When he steps out in a cloud of steam with a fluffy white towel around his waist, he instantly smells bacon and eggs. He wonders when Magnus even got up to do that. He didn’t hear any movement.

He dresses into a fresh pair of sweatpants (that he also, regrettably, bought from a thrift store) and a yellow hoodie with a rose by his shoulder. He felt like he needed  _ something  _ to impress Magnus, and since Izzy got this for him last Christmas, he still hasn’t worn it, so. It’s surprisingly soft.

_ Almost like Izzy knows what she’s doing, jackass. _

“Hey,” Alec says, sitting carefully in a chair across from Magnus in the kitchen. Magnus has on the same attire as the night before, just a bit wrinkled and messy, and makeup from the other night is smudged down his cheeks, sort of making him look like a raccoon, but he smiles like he doesn’t notice. He probably hasn’t seen a mirror all day, so Alec doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t look  _ bad  _ anyway. If he's a raccoon, he's a _sexy_ raccoon. Alec never thought he would be thinking that phrase in his _life,_ but. Magnus could pull off a legitimate trash bag. 

Not that he would ever even go near one of those things. Alec imagines he probably hires a freaking maid. 

“Hello _ oo _ ,” Magnus sings, a sneaky smirk on his lips. His hands are clasped in front of his face, elbows on the table like he has some gossip news to tell him. Alec blinks at him.

“What’s got you in such a mood? How are you not…dead right now?” he supplies, groaning. “I need coffee.”   


“Are you referring to the drinking spree you went on last night?” 

Alec nods warily.   


Magnus chuckles, bringing his elbows off the table and his hands in his lap. Alec faintly wonders how he can sit up so straight, almost envious. 

“Right. Well darling, I hate to break it to you, but I brought the wine bottle and you drank about three fourths of it. I was not exactly…involved.”   


“Oh,” Alec mumbles, face flushing as he looks down. Of course. He made a fool of himself again. How is Magnus still here? How hasn’t he just wanted to leave Alec already?   


“Hey,” Magnus says softly, tone changing. Alec looks up, shocked as Magnus brings a hand up to caress his jaw. Alec doesn’t want to admit he melts into the touch, but oh, he  _ melts  _ into the touch. It’s so stupid how quickly he’s falling for this guy. So so dumb. “There’s nothing to worry about. I don’t judge. I used to get wasted every other night,” he laughs a little, but his eyes hold a darker meaning and he removes his hand, frowning and looking away. “I suppose that makes me look bad.”

Alec startles. “No—no, you—Magnus, this is the second time I’ve gotten drunk in front of you. I swear, if anyone looks bad right now, it’s me.”

Magnus scoffs, waving a hand, but his eyes look softer now, lighter. The darkness passed. Alec wonders where that came from. He’s just about to ask, but then Magnus abruptly stands from the table, going back over to the stove to start prodding at what seems like eggs in a pan with a wooden spoon. 

“Be careful with the chairs,” Alec says tentatively. “Other one just freaking broke and collapsed under by ass the other day.”   


This promotes a laugh from Magnus. “Wow. Unfortunate.”   


“Yeah.” Alec scratches the back of his head. 

“So,” says Magnus casually. “How was your shower?”

“Um, pretty good. Cleansing?”   


Cleansing.  _ Cleansing. Who the fuck says cleansing when asked a question like that? _

_ Who the fuck asks a question like that, actually? _ _   
_

“Ah. Nice.”

“Is that what woke you? I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, you’re fine. I woke when I felt you get out of bed.” 

Alec’s cheeks heat up, remembering why he had to in the first place. Man, he would’ve been mortified if Magnus saw. Fuck.

“But you  _ were _ quite loud in there too,” Magnus says, voice strained like he’s holding back laughter. A hot rush of blood comes to Alec’s face, and his mouth drops open. 

“Yo—wh—wha—”

Magnus looks over his shoulder and throws him a wink. Alec’s jaw seems to drop impossibly further. 

“Want some ice, sweetie? You’re face looks like it’s about to burn off.”

“Oh shut—” Alec jumps from his chair, hurrying back to his bedroom. Magnus has already let go and started nearly bawling laughing. 

“ _ Shut up! _ ” Alec calls stubbornly.

“What?” Magnus tries to say innocently, but his insistent cackles make it hard.

“It’s a  _ natural  _ thing for your information! I can’t control it!” He’s making this worse. He’s definitely making this worse.

Magnus wobbles over to where Alec’s standing defensively in his doorway. His smile is so big Alec can’t even see his eyes. He clutches his stomach with one hand, holding the door frame with the other. 

“Oh, oh I know! I mean, all people have to… _ shower _ ,” Magnus says suggestively, following it up with the universal jerk-off motion with his hand by his groin. Alec swats his hand.    


“Oh, shut  _ up. _ Like you never do it!”

Magnus’s laughter ceases, a little. Alec sighs, honestly accepting his fucking misfortune at this point. It’s like god is setting him up for humiliation. Which, according to his Luck, is technically his job, so. He thinks this is the first time he’s ever had such Bad Luck with Magnus. Maybe it’ll all start catching up to him. 

“Yes, yes, we all do. That’s why I’m saying, hope you  _ enjoyed  _ that shower—”

Alec slams his door in Magnus’s face. Magnus’s hiccup-y laugh echoes through the house at random points for at least hours later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commentio for moi pretty ples.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy reading

Tomorrow is supposed to be the hottest day of the entire summer in New York. That’s what the weather forecast says. Everyone should try and stay indoors as much as possible, unless they want to basically melt. Alec intends on preparing fully for this event. 

The only problem is, tomorrow is the day that he and Magnus have their third date scheduled. It’s going to be at Magnus’s place. And it’s going to be a little…tense. 

Fact: Alec hasn’t gotten laid in a very long time. And everybody knows that  _ the  _ third date is the one where people usually…yeah. 

But Alec has no idea if he’s ready or not. He has no idea if he could handle that or not. He has hardly any time to prepare and hardly any time to figure out  _ how  _ to prepare. And his brain may or may not be driving itself out of its mind thinking about it. Overthinking, really, which is what he does best. 

“You know Alec, you really need to stop calling me every time you have a problem.”   


Alec bites his lip, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “I know Iz, it’s just—I’m fucked. I have no idea what to do.”   


Izzy sighs loudly. “God, I miss peace. You know, ever since Magnus, I’ve had  _ none  _ of that.”

“Okay, listen, Izzy please. I’ll owe you one.”   


Izzy snorts. “As if you don’t already owe me about a thousand.”   


“Izz—”

“Okay. Whatever. I’m messing with you. Now—” There’s a pause and someone saying something in the background that Alec can’t quite make out. “ _ No,  _ Jace, hey— _ stop _ , those are  _ mine!” _

Alec winces, patiently waiting out their argument. This has been happening a lot lately. 

“Ugh. He’s so annoying. How the fuck did you used to live with him?”

He hears a deeper voice in the background, clearly this time— “ _ I heard that!” _

“Oh man, that sucks! I feel  _ so _ so bad for my  _ dear  _ brother!” she screams back. Alec almost holds the phone away from his ear. 

“What are you guys even arguing about?”   


“He wanted to wear my red chucks to some party.” He can’t see her, but it’s almost like he can picture smoke flowing from her ears as she speaks just from her voice.

“Uh. What’s the problem with that?”

“I don’t want his dirty feet all up in my shoes! Plus, god knows what he’s going to do at that party! I like my shoes  _ clean _ , thank you very much!  _ Plus,  _ he’ll stretch them out with his  _ fat ass clown feet _ ,” she yells extra loud, probably so he can hear.

Alec holds back a snicker. “Okay, Izzy. Okay.”

“Oh shut up! Do you want me to help you with this problem or not?”   


“On your period or something?”

The call ends suddenly. Alec calls her back but she only declines. Oh well.

He calls Jace.

“Hey man. What’s up?”   


Alec snorts. “How are you not like, a huge flaming fireball right now?”

“What do you mean?”

“The fight? With Izzy?”

“Ohh,  _ that’s  _ who she was on the phone with? Hah. I just saw her hang up on you. What’d you say?”   


Alec scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling guilty. “I—I may have asked if she was on her period,” he says sheepishly.

Jace makes a whooping, cackle noise, and then there’s a shrill screech. 

“Who are you talking to?” he hears faintly. It must be Izzy. 

“Oh. No one.”

Alec can hear more fumes. 

“What’s he saying about me? What the fuck are you guys talking about?  _ Give me your phone. _ ”

“You know man, I think she  _ is  _ on her period,” Jace says just to mess with her. There’s a sharp yelp and a clatter, and suddenly there’s no one on the phone anymore. 

“Jace? Izzy?”   


He wonders where the hell his mom is. It’s a Saturday afternoon, honestly.

There’s more clattering noises, and Alec gets the feeling they’re fighting. Probably physically. He ends the call, almost forgetting the reason he even called in the first place. 

Almost.

He groans, closing his eyes and being still for a moment. Thinking it out as he lays like a starfish on his bed.

How is he going to do this?   


_ You could just you know…say no if Magnus tries pushing you.  _

But what if it’s awkward after?   


_ Magnus never makes it awkward. You know this. _

Yeah but what if—

_ Enough. _

If he has one more mind argument with himself about this, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

He shoots up from his bed, head spinning a little, as he decides he wants to make himself some lunch. Usually he orders in, but as he’s seriously low on money, he decides to cook. If Magnus can do it and survive, so can he. 

Suddenly, he remembers the other morning and what happened when he woke up. And how he was so careful about Magnus not seeing yet he still figured out anyway. Because he was too  _ loud.  _

Well. If he wasn’t going to have sex with Magnus  _ before,  _ he doesn’t know how he’ll muster up the courage remembering  _ that.  _

He wonders if Magnus thinks he’s some stupid, horny guy who wants to put out immediately just because of that morning. He really really really hopes he doesn’t. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that Magnus really isn’t that shallow and probably wouldn’t pressure him into anything, but he also doesn’t know everything about him, so he isn’t sure if he can trust him yet. 

Truly, this entire thing could all just be made up still. He has no way of knowing. All this ‘luck’ he’s experiencing? What if it all leads up to some sort of elaborate punishment that was caused because he tried to be with someone? He tried trusting someone? Magnus could be behind it all.

But the more they go out, the less and less Alec sees this in him, which could be dangerous if it all  _ is  _ true. 

Alec sighs, letting himself lay back down. He’s too dizzy from all the sudden thinking. 

Ugh. He really needs therapy. If only that actually worked for him.

He closes his eyes and prays and prays and prays that Magnus is someone who he can really trust and be with. He’ll try his best.

* * *

The day rolls on. Alec practically stays in bed for all of it. He forgets to eat. He’s too stressed, honestly. Food wouldn’t sit well in his stomach right now.

He watches the sun slowly set through his window. At least, from what he can see of it past the buildings. Unfortunately, there isn’t a pretty sunset with pink and purple skies, like he wants there to be. The sun’s just a burning, bright yellow, dusting the sky in small areas around it with small rays of it’s blinding color.

Funny how that works. How some days there’s an entire sky full of colors, all from the sun, and other days, the sun just leaves without a single pretty detail. It’s like some days, the sun just has a bad day. Doesn’t feel like trying. Alec feels like that too. Especially today. 

But then, as he looks back at his days, that’s how most of them usually go. 

Well, besides the ones with Magnus. 

_ Oh,  _ Magnus. 

There are so many things he could think about with Magnus. So many features he would love to memorize, obsess about like he does with all of his crushes. Except, this shouldn’t really be called a crush, right? They’re official. 

Right?   


They haven’t even had a second kiss, Alec realizes with wide eyes staring at his ceiling. How are they going to have sex if they haven’t even had a second kiss? Are they just going to progress straight to that?

_ Fuck.  _ Fuck Alec’s  _ heart  _ hurts from how stressed he is. 

Which isn't normal. He seriously needs to get it together. He’s not sure what’s going on.

Anyways. 

He wants to focus on the good things about Magnus. If this is some stupid joke the Universe is playing on him, he wants to enjoy Magnus while he lasts. He might as well, because there’s no way he’s going to back down. This is the closest he’s been with someone that wasn’t his damn family in ages. 

Ah screw it. Magnus is nice. Magnus is sweet. Magnus treats him well. He’ll survive. Even if shit happens,  _ they’ll  _ survive. Alec makes sure to keep his mindset strictly on that for the rest of the day, letting his eyes close as the last bits of natural light slowly fade away from his face. He can feel the heat slowly leave it. Without opening his eyes, he scrambles around so he can fit himself under his covers, cuddling with a pillow and maybe possibly imagining it’s Magnus.

* * *

It’s still dark outside when his body forces him to get up. He sits up like it’s a normal day, like it’s time to start getting ready for possibly the most stressful date of his life when he realizes that he’s sweating and panting a little. Because his stomach is  _ pulsing  _ pain, churning and grinding and making him collapse back onto the bed with a gasp. Well. There was a  _ reason  _ he woke up. There it is.

For a second, he doesn’t think about how much this is going to fuck things up, doesn’t panic about the fact that he’s supposed to go out with Magnus today and now he’s up and seemingly sick like hell. But that only lasts a second.

With an effort that takes more than he thought from inside him, he turns his head in an awkward position so he can check the time from the digital clock on his nightstand. It’s 1:03 a.m. Wonderful.

He goes back to stare at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the pain in his stomach. He weighs out his options quickly—if he could barely move his head, there’s  _ no  _ way he’s getting up, and he doesn’t even know what he’d make for himself if he tried—this has never happened before. There’s no way he can try and go back to sleep with this pain. But he can’t just lay here in misery. 

His hands are clutching the sheets, mostly kicked off from his rough slumber. It feels like there’s a fucking animal inside him clawing and punching at his insides, just purely reigning terror, and he feels so ill he thinks he might pass out. This has never happened before.

He closes his eyes and prays, prays for help or a miracle or anything. He listens to the bustle coming from outside, the honks and sirens slightly muffled. The only other sound is the small hum from the cool air that blows in from his vents, but he doesn’t feel as cool or relaxed as he should be at all. He feels like he’s just been held over a great fire, the flames slowly roasting him until he melts. He wishes he could just melt, not have to worry about anything ever again. 

His head is swimming with panic. His thoughts feel like he has earbuds in with two songs blaring at full volume at the exact same time, like he can’t hold down one thought to focus on at a time. He sits there lying still, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he almost want to put a palm on it to stop it, but he doesn’t want to risk moving like that. 

His thoughts start spiraling, spinning off in all different directions, because at this point, he has not a clue of what he’s going to do. His stomach hurts so bad he feels like there might be a bomb inside him, fucking with his insides and making him near exploding. Sweat rolls off his forehead and burns under his arms. His knuckles are starting to ache from how hard he’s holding the sheets. 

Just when he’s starting to seriously lose hope, his phone buzzes on the bedside table and he realizes with a jolt that he can  _ call  _ someone. Maybe. Who would be up at one a.m.?

_ A lot of people, Alec. _

Well, who would be up that he knows could help him?

The nasty part of his mind stays silent, and he can’t help but feel a little proud.

Unbelievably slowly, he drags one hand across the bed without lifting it, guiding it to the table. Thankfully, it’s a low enough table that once he reaches it, he can just drop his hand and search through its contents for a moment before he grabs that big, hard block that he recognizes to be as his phone.

He grabs it quickly, wincing at the spark of pain that erupts in his stomach from the movement as he brings it up in front of his face. He moves through his phone as quickly as he can, the apps blurring and shaking. He takes a deep breath, blinking a few times.

The notification was from Magnus.

_ You up? Can’t sleep, so excited for our date :P _

Alec groans, a pit of guilt forming low in his stomach. It doesn’t help the pain, which he notices, with a great deal of worry, is getting worse.

Before he answers, he calls Izzy four times. And Jace three. (Jace is usually  _ never  _ up). And even, as a last resort, he tries his mom. But it’s pointless.

And he doesn’t really know anyone else. At least, no one else that would be willing to come over at this time to figure out a way to help him.

Well. 

There’s Magnus. Who’s  _ up _ , for fuck’s sake. Ah, the universe’s next cruel fate.

He has to text back. He can’t stand the pain. He has to.

He repeats that like a mantra in his head, over and over again, until he finally gathers the courage to go to Magnus’s contact and start typing.

His mind blanks on what to say, just like it always does. 

_ Hey, sorry this is unexpected (and btw, I’m excited too), but do you think you could do me a favor? Like sort of a big one? _

He gets a response almost immediately.

_ Of course. _

_ My stomach’s sort of in a lot of pain right now, and I have no idea why. And I sort of can’t really move. Since you’re up, I know this is a lot and trust me, I wouldn’t be asking this if I didn’t absolutely need your help, but do you think you could come over and sort of…help me? _

His fingers are shaking as he sends out the text.

The next response takes a little longer.

_ Of course. My mother gave me this recipe to a fantastic ginger-lemon tea with charcoal that always does the trick. I’ll be over in ten. Xx _

Alec sighs a huge breath of relief, not believing his luck. Literally.

_ Thank you so so much. I have no idea what I’d do without you. For real. You’re amazing.  _

_ No problem, Alexander. _

So Alec sets his phone down on his chest, trying to even out his breathing and organize his thoughts a little more. His stomach still hurts like a bitch but he’s not as overwhelmed anymore knowing that help is on the way. All he needs to do is just sit back and focus only on calming himself, not on how guilty he feels for calling Magnus over or how this is definitely going to ruin their date.

Or on how, once again, his luck struck out  _ again.  _

(That’s his craziest thought of all, and he doesn’t even know what he’s going to do if this keeps happening. Does he go to a doctor? Does he google it? What fucking next?)   


He distracts himself by trying to look back on the previous day and figure out what he ate that might have caused this. His thoughts travel back to the morning, a fleeting, blurry memory now, but he remembers having old Chinese food that could’ve been too old…

And…and nothing else.

Great.

On the other hand, a stomach virus is possibly the most disgusting and repelling sickness one could have, so maybe this whole Magnus thing isn’t luck at all, in a weird way.

About ten minutes pass and Alec has barely moved an inch on the bed when there’s a knock at his door—thank god.

But— _ fuck. _

How is Magnus going to get in? That means he’s going to have to get up.

He presses a tentative hand on his stomach, testing it out. It lurches and another wave of pain flares through him. Fantastic. Well, he doesn’t have a choice, does he?

The knocking comes louder. He thinks of how funny it would be if there’s really some murderer at his door before getting scared of the actual possibility.

He manages to get himself out of bed and stumble to the living room, bending over so much he feels like an old man. He has to stop halfway and grab the couch violently to keep himself from falling, clutching his stomach and gasping as he focuses on keeping himself standing. His vision blacks out for a second so he waits it out, breathing harshly.

The knocks come again, harder. He can’t even let Magnus know that he’s on his way; he’s too afraid it’ll make it hurt more.

Eventually, he crashes into the door and fumbles with the door knob before wrenching it open, panting and practically falling into Magnus’s arms. Magnus jolts, dropping what sounded like a little box and grunting as he falls back a little with the weight of Alec.

“Oh my god,” he says, clutching Alec’s back and sounding strained. Alec really would feel bad, but the pain in his stomach is so acute he feels like he’s going to pass out if he keeps standing.

“Mag—nus,” he croaks into his chest. His beige sweater smells like fresh, sweet laundry detergent. 

“Oh god, okay baby, c’mon, here we go,” Magnus encourages, leading him back to his bedroom. Soon, he’s being pushed back onto his bed and he lets out a little squeak at the jolt in his stomach. Fuck. 

Once he’s settled, Magnus quickly wraps him up tightly in his covers, petting through his sweaty fringe.

_ Sweaty. _

He jerks away, groaning. Magnus stares at him in shock for a second. 

“I’m—disgusting,” he murmurs. “Sorry.”   


Magnus pauses for a moment, a little hesitant. Then his face softens and he goes straight back to petting Alec’s hair. Alec sighs, silently giving the universe a  _ fuck you. _

“Darling, you’re fine. I’m gonna take care of you now, alright?”

Alec nods, closing his eyes. This is pathetic.

There’s a light thumping and when Alec opens his eyes, Magnus is gone, probably preparing his tea. He lays there in silent agony, praying and praying that this will go away and that their date isn’t actually for real ruined, even though he knows at this point it’s basically a lost cause. 

The sound of his squeaky pot starting to boil floats from the kitchen, and Alec lets himself sit up a bit in preparation. Magnus comes in a few seconds later, a look of pity on his face as he brings Alec the tea. 

His face is bare and he’s wearing maybe the most plain outfit Alec’s ever seen him wear. His heart warms a little when he thinks of how he just dropped everything to come here to help Alec. He shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts but. Oh well.

“Here.” Magnus gently places the cherry mug he has into his trembling hands, double checking that it’s secure before sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes are still filled with worry, and it makes Alec’s chest hurt with guilt. “This should make you feel better really soon.”   


Alec nods a thanks, gulping down the tea as fast as he can. He ignores the burn of his tongue and throat from the way it’s still practically boiling. It has a sweet layer but it mostly fills Alec’s mouth with a sour tang, probably from the ginger. He feels like a little child being nursed by his mother. It’s ridiculous.

Once he gathers up enough energy to speak, he apologizes profusely.

“Magnus I’m so so sorry you had to do this. I know, I know this is going to completely ruin our date and—and I swear I didn’t make this up, I—I  _ do  _ want to go out with you, this is truly just because—”

“Alec.” He puts a hand on his thigh and Alec’s eyes follow it wearily. “Stop apologizing. I’m here for you and you know that. You’re my boyfriend and I can take care of you, even if that means coming in the middle of the night for a cup of tea.” He grins at his statement before seeing the look of Alec’s face at the pronoun he used for them. 

“Oh. Right. We never really confirmed—uh, what we’re calling each other.” Alec doesn't think he's ever seen Magnus nervous like this. It's a bit disorienting.   


Magnus has no right to stop his heart while he’s feeling sick. 

“I—I would like to be that. Your boyfriend. If you want," Alec says.   


Alec takes a moment, and in the silence, all that can be heard is Alec’s obnoxious stomach gurgling and Magnus’s small giggle as he ponders.

“Yes. I would love that,” he says shyly. Shit. Shit shit shit. Magnus is making his heart way too jittery.

Alec thinks he’s going to pounce or start whooping or something from the look on his face, but Magnus just stays where he is, light hand stroking his leg through the blankets. A slow smile creeps onto his face, his eyes lighting up in a different way then Alec’s ever seen them. It’s breathtaking. It always is.

Alec feels a burst of happiness being the one able to cause Magnus those fond looks he gets on his face, or the wonderful smiles that appear. He knows it’s stupid and freaking hundreds of other people have probably already done that for him, but still. He’s allowed to feel special. He doesn’t know why, but. He wants to.

Now that he thinks of it, his stomach pain has gone down about thirty percent. Amazing.

“Dude, this tea really worked. It’s amazing. What the hell? The only thing that’s ever worked this fast was the time my dog trying to climb the fence when I was in fifth grade.”   


Magnus snorts. “It’s an old family recipe. Lots of secret ingredients, blah blah blah, but it’s never  _ not  _ helped a member of the Bane family for tummy aches, so. I mean, I don’t remember the last time  _ I  _ had to use it—”

Alec smacks him, spilling a little tea. 

“Woah there, that is a very sacred recipe Alexander. Nothing to mess with.” 

They both laugh, and now it’s back to being comfortable and happy, like it always is usually with Magnus. Being with Magnus feels like this perfect, satisfying thing that, strangely, Alec doesn’t want to lose. Not for a very long time, at least.

Alec’s mind swims with questions and deep talks he wants to have, things about their Luck and things about Magnus’s family, but Magnus looks too happy for deep talks right now. Alec’s discovered that whenever he mentions a sensitive topic it will, yes, eventually lead to a deep talk, Magnus tends to get a little upset. He does a very good job of covering it, but Alec can read people like an open book. He locked that skill in with Jace, that private, stubborn ass, years ago.

“So did your mom make it or something?” Alec asks. He thinks is casual, normal conversation, but he must’ve said something wrong or sensitive because something dark passes over Magnus’s face. 

He stays quiet for a moment longer, but speaking softly again. “Yeah.”   


Alec nods, nervous. He decides not pry anymore. “That’s cool. Sorry if that’s like, too personal.” Alec had thought that they could share some things about each other now but apparently it isn’t the time yet. He gets the feeling that this whole ‘third date sex’ thing would’ve failed miserably according to how they’re acting now. Which he’s fine with. Because he was so not ready.

“I’m so sorry I ruined our date.”

“Alec, I told you, you don’t need to apologize—”

“Yeah but I want to. I—” he takes a deep breath, his hand wavering a little as he motions it through the air with his words. “I barely ate anything but rotten Chinese food the other day, and it was mostly because I was so nervous about this date thing that we’re having. It’s pathetic and disgusting, I know, it’s just—this—I mean, everyone always has these expectations for  _ the  _ third date, you know? The ones about…about what we’ll  _ do _ ,” Alec says as suggestively as possible. He can’t meet Magnus’s eye. God this is so embarrassing. Why did he bring it up? He wants to run out of the room.   


“Oh,” Magnus says. “ _ Oh. _ ”

“Yeah,” Alec says as quietly as possible. He feels like such an idiot. Jesus fuck.

“Oh darling, god, I didn’t even think about that. You have absolutely nothing to worry about with me, Alexander. I won’t force you into anything at all. We can go at whatever pace we want, okay? Who gives a fuck about the third date rule? We can do it our way.” He strokes a hand along Alec’s cheek, lifting his eyes up to meet his. Alec’s met with an encouraging smile, bright enough to know he’s earnest.

Alec lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for the past couple days. Ever since they planned this, really.

“Thank you so much. I just—I’m not very experienced with this whole thing, you know? And, and I feel like it really seems like you are. I mean, I’m not trying to assume anything, but I don’t—I mean—you’re just so—”

“It’s okay,” Magnus reassures him, laughing softly. “I get it. It’s alright.”

“Okay.” Alec smiles a little, a weight being lifted off his chest. He gives himself a small mental note to allow himself to open up to Magnus because it always seems to work out so well. “That’s good.”   


Magnus grins and scoots over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders and nuzzling close. 

“And I don’t know about you, but one a.m. dates are still just as fun. Anything with you is fun.”

Alec’s always thought he was so boring. And when Magnus came, that feeling only got  _ stronger.  _ He wonders if this is real life.

“Whatever you say,” he says, attempting a happy tone. His thoughts have gone back to this weird, weird Luck. Actually, at this point, he thinks about it so much he’s not sure it’ll ever not be on his mind. 

“Wanna watch a movie? Disney?”

“Sure. But, I don’t know, I’m a little tired of Disney.”   


“Alright. Then you choose.”

Alec thinks for a moment of the movies he owns. He’s in the mood for a little action. Something to wake him up, maybe, because now that Magnus is here, it’s not like he wants to go back to sleep.   


“Dunkirk,” he ends up saying. “A personal favorite.”

Mangus puts on a weird look. “Hmm. Never seen it.”

“Oh man, you gotta. It’s so good. It’s about World War II and the soldiers that got trapped at Dunkirk, just  _ waiting _ —” Alec stops himself. “I’m sorry. I won’t nerd out over it. It’s just—it’s really good.”

Magnus cackles. “Of course baby. I believe you. I’m all for it. Living room?”

“Yeah, sure.” He has a TV in here, but it’s better in the living room.

“You okay to walk?”

Alec flushes, an apology on the tip of his tongue again. “I—yeah. Yes.”

Magnus smiles almost like he’s proud, slipping off the covers and giving Alec a hand. “Here.”

Alec feels stupid, but he holds on gratefully, making sure his stomach doesn’t flip itself upside down and burn again. When there’s just a small sting, he assures Magnus that’s he’s alright with a smile, and they paddle to the living room in the dark.

Magnus drapes his entire body down the couch, laying his head down on the armrest. He pats right on his stomach for Alec to come down. Alec just shakes his head with a smile, squishing himself next to him.

Alec’s almost completely sure he’s going to fall asleep in this position, but whatever. He’s so comfortable, he’s so at ease that even if a bomb just went off down the street he still wouldn’t want to move.

At nearly halfway, Alec’s eyes start to droop until Magnus suddenly speaks with vigor.

“Who is  _ that _ ?”

Alec looks up at the screen with bleary eyes. He focuses on Alex, the man he remembers from all the other times he’s watched this movie as the ‘guy who wants to kick off the German man from the boat.’ So basically kind of an asshole. But they’re not at that part yet. They just passed the part where everyone’s in the water with their life vests struggling to get on the next ship, or the part where Harry Styles makes his appearance on for the first time.

“Oh yeah. Harry Styles.”

“ _ Damn. _ Hang on—” Magnus fishes his phone out from his pocket, flipping it over and starting to type furiously. 

“What are you doing?” Alec laughs. 

“Googling him, of course.”   


“You don’t know who Harry Styles is?”

Magnus snorts. “Well, maybe I’ve heard the name, but…” He gasps loudly. “Holy  _ shit _ . This guy? The one from that band? God, I’ve  _ always  _ thought he was attractive. Wow. Had no idea he was in a movie.”

“Yeah. He has his own career now and everything.”   


Mangus raises his eyebrows, nodding but not saying anymore as he continuously scrolls through photos.   


“My sister used to be obsessed when she was little.”

“I can sure as hell tell why.”

“Maybe I’m a little jealous. Am I not attractive enough for you, Magnus?” he says, barely containing a smile as he juts his chin out.

Magnus finally takes his eyes off the screen, giving him a look. 

“Oh please. You know we would have a threesome with this man if we could, babe.”

“Hey!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment and kudo to make my day. k bye.

**Author's Note:**

> hehe


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